Harry Potter and the Heir of Slytherin
by wingedthing
Summary: My version of book 7. Find the Horcruxes, destroy Voldemort, you know the drill. Written before DH, so no spoilers. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1 Destiny

**A/N**: Hullo. Welcome to my first and only full-length story. Written before Deathly Hallows was published (so no spoilers), it is my version of Book 7, written using the hints mentioned in the first 6 books.

I hope you enjoy reading this - I enjoyed writing it.

And on with the show...

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**Harry Potter and the Heir of Slytherin**

**Chapter 1 – Destiny**

Harry Potter lay still, wondering where he was. It was too dark to see anything and there was a soft yet somewhat worrying growling sound coming from the far side of the room. Harry strained his memory but the last thing he could remember was dancing with Ginny at Bill and Fleur's wedding party. The familiar thick blanket of guilt washed over him as he realised that yet again he had probably put others in danger by just being around them. In frustration he tried to turn onto his side, but a sudden sharp pain in his shoulder stopped him abruptly. Harry gasped his breath back and gingerly raised his right hand to his left shoulder. It hurt to touch and the bones didn't feel as though they were in quite the right place. He groaned and flopped back onto the bed. Soon he was asleep again and the only sounds were his soft breathing and the faint growls from the animal watching him.

Harry awoke sometime later. As consciousness settled in, Harry became aware again of the growling. Bright light was searing through to his eyes, so Harry opened them somewhat reluctantly. He glanced around the room, recognising it immediately as his friend Ron Weasley's room, and felt instantly lighter and more cheerful. The growling was in fact purring emitted by Crookshanks, who was curled happily in the lap of a sleeping girl with fiery red hair. Harry sat up suddenly, only to be forcibly reminded of the pain in his shoulder and he yelled out in anguish. Crookshanks leapt from his perch and Ginny jolted awake with a start. "Harry!" she cried, rushing to the side of his bed. "You've been asleep for ages!"

"Have I?" Harry was more confused than he had been earlier, and still couldn't fathom why his shoulder was hurting. "What happened?"

"There was another Dementor attack," Ginny told him matter-of-factly. "Don't worry, everyone's fine. But don't you remember? You helped to drive them away. You had the most amazing Patronus."

Harry thought hard to dredge some memory of the previous day but nothing useful came to mind, certainly nothing to do with Dementors. He shook his head, defeated. Something wasn't quite right.

"I don't remember anything about Dementors." He looked around Ron's untidy room. "How come I'm here? Where's everyone else? Why does my shoulder hurt?" Ginny looked down at him, her expression a mixture of sympathy and amusement.

"You're here because you seemed to be okay and it seemed a better idea for you to stay with us rather than go home to your uncle unconscious, or to risk taking you to St Mungo's. Everyone else has gone back to work, except Bill and Fleur who left for Siberia this morning, and Ron and Hermione are in Diagon Alley with Mum. Your shoulder hurts because the Patronuses apparently conflicted with the magic holding the marquee. It collapsed… it sort of squashed you." She grinned a little sheepishly.

"What?"

"The marquee. For the wedding party. You remember?"

"I remember the party. I remember dancing… " Harry shook his head again, as if trying to clear it.

"Do you want some breakfast?" Ginny had stood up. Harry noticed she was wearing his shirt from earlier and observed how it looked so much better on her. He lay just looking at her for apparently some time, as she suddenly said, "I'm going to get some breakfast. Shout if you want anything." She left the room, leaving the door open. Harry stared at the ceiling and wondered why the whole Weasley family had thought it appropriate to leave Ginny alone in the house with so many Dark wizards on the loose. Surely there was someone else who could have stayed just in case something happened? Harry wouldn't have been much use asleep. Thinking about it made him angry, but being angry made his shoulder throb, so he sighed and closed his eyes instead, and Crookshanks began to purr.

A while later, Harry found himself joined by his friends as he sat in bed with a tray of cold chicken and salad resting on his legs. He was picking at the salad but not really eating it as he and Ginny listened to Ron telling them about the state of Diagon Alley.

"No where's open. There's a sign on the door of Eeylops saying it's gone out of business – I bet no-one's using owls anymore in case they get intercepted - and Flourish and Blotts is empty. Apparently all Hogwarts books will be sent directly to the school. Ollivander's is still closed, and Madam Malkin's. Gringotts is open but the goblins are hardly letting anyone in. Fred and George are still open o'course, but they've had to remove all items that could be dangerous in the hands of dark wizards on orders of the Ministry, so they've only got Muggle magic tricks and a few trick wands. Just when people could use a bit of cheering up."

Ron slumped onto the end of Harry's bed and joined him in picking at the salad. Ginny and Hermione exchanged a pitying look before returning to the copy of the _Prophet_ they'd been sharing.

"Anyone else died?" Ron monotoned, and Harry got the feeling this was a daily exercise in the Weasley house.

"Yesterday there were Dementor attacks in Ottery-St-Catchpole…" Hermione read (Ron snorted), "…and in Little Whinging, Surrey…" Hermione looked sharply at Harry. Harry also looked up to find the three of them staring at him, almost accusatorily.

"It wasn't me," he said, part joke, part to make them stop looking at him like that. Hermione looked flustered.

"No of course, Harry, we know that. It's just… well they know where you live now, don't they?"

"They knew before," Harry reminded her, but Ron and Ginny also started to look uncomfortable. Hermione pressed on:

"You'll be 17 next week Harry. You wont be safe there anymore."

"Well I'm not safe anywhere, am I?" Harry retorted, a little more loudly than he'd meant to. The truth was, he knew he wasn't safe anywhere or with anyone. He knew that having people around him put them in danger. He knew that until he'd killed Voldemort once and for all, he could have neither home nor friends. He knew all this, but thinking about it made him hurt in places that couldn't be healed. He started eating the chicken to occupy himself while Ron started fidgeting with the bedclothes and Ginny went back to reading the newspaper. Hermione continued to stare at Harry, as if trying to read his mind. Harry was quite sure she hadn't mastered Legilimency, but occluded his mind anyway. Harry had spent a lot of time over the past couple of weeks practising both Occlumency and Legilimency, as all other practical magic would be detected by the ministry and Harry was still underage. He knew that Ron and Hermione had both been practising defensive spells and counter-curses. That he of all people wasn't allowed was ludicrous. _Still, less than a month to go_, he thought.

The silence was broken by Ginny's cry of "Oh no!" As everyone turned to her, she looked up, distressed. "Professor Flitwick's gone missing!" Hermione snatched the paper and scanned it rapidly.

"... _Filius Flitwick, teacher of charms at Hogwarts was recommended to be Deputy Headmaster at the school when it reopens in September_…"

"So it will be open then," Ginny clarified.

"…_Suspicion was first aroused when he missed his interview for the post at the Ministry of Magic. His home has been searched, and there is no indication whatsoever as to his whereabouts or whether he left of his own free will. The professor has not been seen since the end of last term. Anyone with information should contact the Ministry_." Hermione stopped reading and chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. "But what would they want with Flitwick?"

Harry, Ron and Ginny were saved from having to answer this as the door was flung open by Mrs Weasley.

"All of you, out!" She lifted Ginny by her shoulders and headed for Ron, who jumped up to avoid being manhandled by his fuming mother. Hermione hurried out followed by Ginny, who was rubbing her sore shoulders, and glanced at Harry before shutting the door after Ron. Mrs Weasley stood over Harry, glaring at the wall with her hands on her hips.

"Mrs Weasley?" Harry ventured nervously.

Molly Weasley let out a great sigh and tried to compose herself. She smiled at Harry. "Apparently the Healers are too busy to see you dear." She fumbled on the floor by Harry's bed and passed him his clothes, which, Harry noticed, has been cleaned and pressed. "Put these on. I'm afraid you'll have to go to a Muggle doctor. You know I don't agree with this, but since the injury isn't magical…" she trailed off. "I've got to take you back to your aunt and uncle's. You've done Side-Along-Apparition before, haven't you dear?" She waited for Harry to nod before she left, closing the door behind her. As Harry climbed gingerly out of bed he heard Mrs Weasley mumbling down the stairs, "Got time to see Doris Crockford, but not Harry Potter… Confused priorities…"

Harry got dressed as quickly as he could, moving his shoulder as little as possible. Minutes later he had said goodbye to Ron, Ginny and Hermione, and arrived back in Privet Drive. Mrs Weasley waited until Harry was safely inside the house before Disapparating. Harry was relieved to find that his relatives were not at home. He telephoned the doctor and made an appointment for the next morning. Having replaced the receiver, Harry sighed and trudged upstairs to his bedroom. It was still three weeks until his birthday and Harry was itching to work on his magic. Instead, he spent hours pouring over magic theory, researching defensive spells, and practising Occlumency. He found the best way to practise Legilimency was on his cousin Dudley. Harry would pick opportune moments to talk to Dudley (usually when uncle Vernon was not within earshot) and ask him questions like "So what did you do last night, Dud?" To which Dudley would reply "Mind your own business," then spend the next few minutes in silence, thinking of what he _did _do. These were the moments when Harry tried to access his cousin's thoughts. To Harry's delight, they were becoming clearer. He would, however, have to practice on someone else at some stage, as he doubted any Dark Wizard's mind would be as easy to penetrate as the mind of Dudley Dursley… perhaps with the exception of Crabbe and Goyle.

He also met regularly with Hermione, who had passed her Apparition test already, so met Harry at Privet Drive. At first Vernon had refused to allow her to enter, but Harry assured him, untruthfully, that Hermione had no magical powers. Hermione told Vernon herself that both her parents were dentists, and they often went on skiing holidays, and Vernon finally relented. Hermione brought with her new spell books, and ideas on how to locate the remaining four Horcruxes. She also brought news from the wizarding world, from which Harry found himself yet again separated.

Harry lay back on his bed and closed his eyes. Hedwig was nipping the bars of her cage in an agitated manner, but Harry couldn't let her out too often in case she was recognised and followed back to Harry. He hit the bed in frustration with his uninjured arm and tried hard to piece together what had happened the evening before. He could remember Bill and Fleur's wedding – Mrs Weasley had been in tears throughout – and then going to a party in the evening. He spent a lot of time laughing with Ginny, Ron and Hermione, and had even danced a bit. No matter how hard he tried, Harry couldn't remember anything past that. According to Ginny, Dementors had come in swarms. As soon as they knew, everyone had rushed to help. Ginny's Patronus was quite weak, so Harry had told her to stay back while he and Lupin, among several other guests, fought the Dementors away. In the confusion, nobody had noticed that the marquee was falling down around them. Ginny said she had called out to Harry but he hadn't heard her, and didn't look up in time to see the canopy crashing down onto him. No wonder his shoulder hurt, Harry thought, that arena was enormous! It had held a vast number of people, most of whom had approached Harry at some point or other to introduce themselves to the Chosen One, even if a lot of them still thought he was a bit mad. Overall, the evening had been a bit of a catastrophe on any level. Harry was particularly disappointed as he was hoping to have a very important discussion with Lupin about his plans for the coming year. Having mulled it over for a while, Harry was now positive that he would not return to Hogwarts to complete his final year. Instead, he would put all his efforts into finishing the work that Dumbledore had started, to annihilate the Dark Wizard who had already caused so much harm and destruction. Harry had put off thinking about the death of Dumbledore every day since it had happened. He had been much more than a head teacher to Harry; he had been a mentor, providing constant support and guidance, even love. In the end, it had been this that killed him, just as it had been so with Harry's parents, and with Sirius. Unable to contain it any longer, Harry screwed his eyes up tight in a vain attempt to prevent thousands of tears falling down his cheeks and onto his pillow. He wanted to end all this, he needed to finish it. It was his destiny.

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Severus Snape was facing one of the most miserable periods of his life. As soon as was humanly possible, he had arranged for Draco and Narcissa Malfoy to be hidden so they were safe from the Dark Lord, who would no doubt punish them for Draco's failure in the first task set for him by his Master. Snape himself was hiding from the wizarding world because if he were recognised he would find himself in Azkaban faster than you could say _Avada Kedavra_. He was also avoiding the Dark Lord himself as much as possible, who was losing patience with Snape for concealing the Malfoys' whereabouts. Following the incident at Hogwarts, Snape had immediately returned his home in Spinner's End, grasping a very white and unusually quiet Draco by the arm. He had collected a few important personal items from the house before hurrying to the Malfoy Manor. With a few sharp words to Narcissa, he'd sent them away to his own personal safe house. He'd only needed to use it once before, many years ago, but maintained its magic just in case he ever needed to use it again. It was a house on a rock in the sea; small, very cold, and extremely uncomfortable, but protected by every sort of concealment, protection and secrecy charm, curse and spell that Snape knew. By the time any wizard had broken through half of these, Snape would have been alerted and had ample time to escape. It was here that Narcissa and her son now lived, the latter sulky, frightened and impatient, his mother in a constant flow of nervous tears.

As for Snape, his new home was in the Muggle village of Little Hangleton. Lord Voldemort, who wanted to keep an eye on him, had placed him there. Although Snape had his own house, he was frequently called upon to meet with The Dark Lord in the manor, where he currently resided with Pettigrew. Voldemort was certain that the only person who'd guess he would be hiding here was dead at last. This may have been the reason he wasn't so vigilant about hiding himself and his supporters as he would otherwise have been. To the Muggles, the house was both deserted and haunted. Few members of the wizarding world knew of the building's existence, and those that did would have long forgotten that murder occurred there over 50 years ago.

The problem faced by Severus Snape was that he was no longer much use to Lord Voldemort, as he was no longer in a position to pass on information from the Order of the Phoenix. He was also angering the Dark Lord with his continuing protection of Draco Malfoy, for whom he had always carried a certain fondness. Thirdly, he believed the defeat of Voldemort was becoming increasingly unlikely, concordantly to be considered important by the Dark Lord was increasingly essential. It therefore made sense to stay on the Dark side rather than fight it, which would inevitably end in death. On the other hand, what was Voldemort planning to do when he had control of the country? Snape expected he would move on to other countries, reaching his power farther. He also suspected that Voldemort might try to make his presence know to the Muggles, to exist without secrecy – to terrorise them and make them inferior to wizards. Although Severus didn't necessarily agree with this, he knew there was no turning back now. His only option was to remain with Voldemort. However, he could either continue to do the Dark Lord's bidding, trying vainly, as the other Death Eaters did, to be valued and respected above the others. Or, he could take a risk and expand his services by taking matters into his own hands, using his initiative. This would prove him more useful for future plans, and Snape envisaged having power of his own, rather than serving under another wizard for the rest of his life. Of course it could all go terribly wrong, and Snape didn't fancy either possible result of this - Voldemort's displeasure or Azkaban - but Snape was not a coward. He was not afraid of the Dark Lord as many others were, in the same way he had never been afraid of Dumbledore. He was certainly not afraid of Potter.

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	2. Chapter 2 Birthday Blues

**Chapter 2 – Birthday Blues**

This was the most miserable birthday Harry had ever had, and there had been some ghastly ones to compare it with. It was 6am and he'd already been up an hour. He was sitting on his bed in his small bedroom at Privet Drive, rifling through a huge stack of papers that he had acquired over the past month. They included as diverse information as from Ministry lists and records of convicted Death Eaters which Tonks had provided, to lists of which of his belongings were going where later that day. He fetched up this particular piece of parchment and checked it against the stacks of boxes in his room: All books to go to Hermione, most of his clothes and valued possessions, such as his photograph album and medal for special services to the school, would be sent to Ron, then distributed and hidden among the various nooks and crannies of the Burrow. His cloak and broom would be accompanying him to Remus Lupin's home in Manchester. Since Lupin was still spending most of his time with fellow werewolves to report their plans back to the Order, Harry would predominantly be in the house on his own. Tonks promised to drop by whenever possible without attracting attention. At least he would be away from the Dursleys, Harry thought, as he stuffed the parchment in his pocket. He said goodbye to Hedwig and watched as she flew out of the window and out of sight. Harry knew he was going to miss her terribly, but that Hagrid would take good care of her.

Harry checked his watch. In half an hour he had to cross the road to visit Mrs Figg. Her fireplace had been temporarily linked to the Floor network so Harry could easily get to the Ministry to take his Apparition test. He sincerely hoped he would not have to use the Floo network on the way back.

Having done everything he'd planned to do by this time, Harry took a minute to go over his plans for the next couple of weeks. He didn't like to make plans, but Hermione had practically forced him into it, conceding that he didn't have to use them if they proved unhelpful, but he should at least give it a try. Harry had to admit that he'd stuck to his plans so far, and had even found them comforting when he found himself feeling lost, which was happening a lot. Harry huffed and got off his bed, restless. He decided to head to Mrs Figg's early, rather than sitting around doing nothing to pass the time.

As Harry strolled out of the front door, he savoured the feel of fresh air against his skin. The air was still misty and it was darker than July would ordinarily have been due to the Dementors roaming free and breeding all over the country. Harry checked that his wand wasn't visible where he held it in his sleeve and looked both ways before crossing the road, though it wasn't cars he was checking for. Harry let himself into Mrs Figg's house by a previously agreed password, "Frogspawn". Arabella Figg was sitting in an old faded armchair opposite the fire, knitting something large and very pink. She greeted Harry warmly when she saw him, and offered him a toasted teacake, which he declined.

"A bit early aren't you?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "but I've got a lot on today. Maybe they'll see me early if I'm there?"

Mrs Figg studied him almost quizzically, before smiling. "Good luck," she said.

Harry smiled back and took a pouch of green powder from his pocket. Throwing a handful of it into the fire, he took a deep breath and stated "Ministry of Magic" before the living room spiralled away from him.

Moments later, Harry was standing in the hearth of one of the many fireplaces lining the walls of the atrium in the Ministry of Magic. He landed with more balance than usual, and taking this as a good omen, Harry strode confidently over to the slightly rotund wizard behind the security desk. The wizard, whose nametag read Urwin, inspected Harry's wand, noted him in the visitors book, and handed him a small badge which read _Harry Potter, Apparition examination_.

"Into the lift, Level Six, down the corridor, last room on your right." said Urwin.

Harry thanked him and, having pinned the badge to his chest, followed the instructions. A couple of wizards greeted him as he entered the lift. Harry smiled weakly but his stomach muscles had started to tense suddenly, then feel like jelly alternately as the lift moved up the building. On the sixth level, Harry stepped out after several flying memos had zoomed out over his head, and the lift had announced "Level Six, Department of Magical Transportation". As he walked down the long sunlit corridor, he remembered that the windows were enchanted in a similar way to the ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Harry regretted that he could not be there for his final year, but knew there were far more important places to be right now. The door to the last room on the right was open. Harry peered in, and saw a familiar face sitting on a long bench just inside the small room. Harry grinned and went to join his friend.

"Harry!" called a somewhat green-tinged Neville. "Ugh, Gran made me come early; I've been here for ages on my own!"

Harry smiled despite himself and took a seat on the wooden bench next to Neville. There was very little else in the room – a faded purple rug covered the dusty wooden floor and to the right of them there was a notice board, to which was pinned a schedule for today's apparition tests. There was a door opposite them, which Harry presumed led into a larger room where the examination took place. He was correct – a few short minutes later an attractive blonde witch opened the door and smiled at the two young wizards. "Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom? Both of you can come through now. Harry, you've got Professor Tenuit, and Neville you're with Professor Twycross," the witch explained as they followed her into the room, which was larger than the first, but just as sparsely furnished, containing only two white painted tables and four matching chairs. Harry recognised Professor Twycross from apparition lessons at Hogwarts, so he headed towards the unfamiliar wizard wearing deep purple robes.

Professor Tenuit was quite old, about 70, Harry guessed, but emanated youth in his appearance and behaviour. Harry liked him instantly. "Hello, Harry. How do you do?"

"Very well Professor, thank you." Harry replied.

"Excellent, excellent. Now you see Celia there" he gestured at the attractive witch, now looking over at Neville, "she's going to apparate down to the atrium, right by the security desk. All you have to do is apparate down after her, collect a tag from her and come back up here with the tag. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir" Harry replied. He glanced again at Celia who winked at him then vanished.

"You have 30 seconds Harry. Ready? Off you go."

Harry visualised the Ministry atrium, turned on the spot and felt the familiar sensation of being pulled through a very tight tube for only a couple of seconds before he appeared in the atrium, only a foot away from Celia, apparently right on target. He took the proffered tag from her, which was cool to the touch and heavier than it looked. Harry turned again, and arrived moments later with a faint _pop_ back with Professor Tenuit.

"Well done!" said the examiner, as Harry passed him the tag. "Well within the time limit. No problems? Good. That's the easy bit out of the way." Harry looked over as Neville reappeared with a similar metallic tag clutched in his hand. He looked more at ease than he had in the waiting room, and Harry felt happy for him. Harry wanted to tell Neville that he wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts at the end of the summer, but he had already decided that apart from those who knew already (Lupin, Tonks, Ginny, Ron and Hermione), nobody else would be told. Harry knew it would be a greater advantage to him if no-one knew where he was. Harry jumped as the examiner started speaking again.

"Now the second part is slightly trickier, but we need to test that you can apparate out of the building. No good us giving you a license only to find you splinched after a long-distance journey. So, same thing again, except you're to go to Hogsmeade station. Can you do that for me?"

When Harry returned to 4 Privet Drive, it was by licensed apparition. He didn't have much time to celebrate though, as the test and licensing approval had lasted longer than expected and he was behind with his schedule. The Dursleys were just getting up, it being only 7.30 in the morning. Harry helped himself to a quick breakfast of left over tomato soup before heading back upstairs to send his cases and boxes to their respective new homes, a spell he'd picked up from Dumbledore nearly a year ago. When this was done, Harry sat on his bed and gazed around his now empty room, which, he realized with a combination of both remorse and satisfaction, he would probably never enter again. He collected the heap of papers surrounding him and sorted them into a neat pile. He aimed his wand at them and muttered '_phyxiatora_' so they rolled up tightly and magically sealed themselves. He put them in the small hold-all that was resting at the head of his bed. Harry closed the bag, collected his broom and his father's cloak, and headed downstairs where his relatives had gathered for breakfast.

Harry dumped his belongings in the living room and turned to the kitchen. Vernon Dursley was dressed for work in a dull grey suit, reading the newspaper while he sipped tea from a faded blue mug. Dudley was in stripy green pyjamas sitting slouched over the table, spreading a thick layer of jam onto a croissant. Aunt Petunia was peering out of the window at next-door's garden, still in her nightclothes but with her housecoat on over the top. None of them had looked up when Harry came in.

"I'm going now," Harry informed them.

Dudley paused eating his sticky pastry for only a moment, then continued as if nothing had happened. Petunia turned her attention from next-door's garden and looked at Harry instead, but she neither moved nor spoke. Harry was about to turn and leave when Vernon coughed and rustled his newspaper. Without looking up, he asked, "They know that you're leaving do they? These people who're after you?"

Harry had been wondering if this would happen. "No. I think it's best if no-one knows where I am, so I've not told anyone I'm leaving."

Vernon seemed a bit uncomfortable now, and put his paper down to turn his full attention to Harry. "So they might come looking for you here?"

"Yeah, they might" Harry replied, "But I wouldn't worry. They'll more likely kill you than torture you and it's supposed to be quick and painless." With this, Harry grabbed his bag and broom, flung his cloak over his head, and disappeared with a _pop_.

A few seconds later, Harry reappeared on a narrow street lined with an endless row of tall grey buildings. He approached number 57, Graven Grove. There was a short gravel path leading to the front door, separated from the street by a rusty metal gate that was coming off from its hinges. Harry walked down the path, the gravel crunching under his feet, and gazed up at the heavy wooden front door. After performing several unlocking spells and providing a few passwords, Harry opened the door to reveal a steep staircase covered with a threadbare carpet, which Harry suspected was once red, but was now dusty brown. The little glass panel at the top of the front door didn't provide much light, so Harry muttered _lumos_ and his wand tip ignited. Harry walked wearily up the stairs, noting which steps creaked under his weight. At the top of the stairs was a corridor barely big enough for two people to stand together. Other than this corridor there were three rooms, each sealed with a heavy wooden door. Through the door immediately in front of Harry was the bathroom. The suite was brown, as was the old wooden floor and the peeling wallpaper. The cracked mirror on the wall was too dirty to offer any reflection. Through the door slightly to Harry's left there was a small but neat kitchen that also served as a dining room with 2 wooden stools positioned either side of a tarnished and dented metal table. An ugly brown sofa was crammed into the corner of the room. Through the last door was the bedroom. Here there were 2 beds, though upon closer inspection the larger bed was a converted sofa. Both beds were made up with light blue sheets and covers, a similar shade to the ancient wallpaper and threadbare carpet. This room also contained a small wooden wardrobe and a small wooden desk, and featured a stone fireplace and a barred window that over-looked the empty grey street. The whole house had an unpleasant aroma of wet dog. Harry placed his broom and rucksack on the smaller bed by the window. He could not imagine how Lupin had managed to survive in these conditions for so many years. He found himself loathing those who had prevented Lupin from working because he was a werewolf, particularly those who, like Umbridge, were prejudiced against all beings considered to be 'half-breeds'. While entertaining himself with the memory of Umbridge being carried away by the centaurs, Harry unpacked his few belongings and stored them in the bottom of the wardrobe. The scroll of papers he removed from his pocket, slid into the top draw of the otherwise empty desk, and locked the draw with both a locking charm and a sticking charm. Blissfully aware that he could now use magic legally outside of Hogwarts, Harry took advantage of his newfound freedom by giving his new home a quick clean and makeover. With a _scourgify_ here and a _reparo_ there, the house looked neat, if not smart, but certainly improved. It was now nearly 8am and Harry was expected at a Ministry hearing. For the second time that morning, he grabbed a handful of Floo powder and went whizzing off to the Ministry of Magic.

Harry stepped from the hearth and headed again to Urwin at the security desk.

"Back again?"

"Yes," said Harry, "I'm at witness at the hearing…" he trailed off as Urwin nodded to show his acknowledgement. The rounded wizard passed Harry a new visitor's badge, and informed him that the hearing would take place in Courtroom Ten.

"Can you find your way?" Harry nodded that he could and set off at a brisk walk, aware that the lift did not go down that far, and it would take him a couple of minutes to reach his destination.

Harry reached the familiar courtroom just on time and was escorted to sit on a bench at the side with many people he recognised, including Madam Rosmerta and Professor McGonagall, who both smiled warmly at Harry, which he returned only half-heartedly. They were all there to give witness to Dumbledore's death. To Harry, it was pointless and meaningless. He knew it had been the combined efforts of Snape, Malfoy and Voldermort, and he hated them all the same.

The hearing, led by Minister for Magic Rufus Scrimgeour, took three hours, but to Harry it felt like a lifetime. Yet again he was having to recount something he was trying so hard to forget, and he was getting in more and more trouble with the Ministry with every word uttered.

"Mr Potter, please can you tell us where you were when you first saw the Dark Mark?" asked the Minister.

"Outside the Three Broomsticks, in Hogsmeade."

"Were you with anyone?"

"Yes, I was with Professor Dumbledore. We were shortly joined by Madam Rosmerta."

"What were you doing outside the Three Broomsticks with Albus Dumbledore?"

"We were returning to Hogwarts" Harry said, knowing already that he could not answer the next question. The Minister proceeded anyway.

"From where were you and the late Headmaster returning?"

Harry paused before saying, "I'm sorry sir, but I cannot tell you." A murmur rose around the room and the Minister had to request silence. While everyone settled down, Harry noticed Percy Weasley taking notes on the hearing. He was looking at Harry but not with a friendly face, rather a more calculating look, similar to the one teachers had often given Harry when he was in trouble. Harry ignored him and paid his attention to Scrimgeour as he began speaking again.

"Mr Potter, this is an official Ministry hearing. Withholding information is a serious offence. Now please tell us where you were before you returned to Hogsmeade."

Harry hesitated, and then answered "I was in Devon." This was the truth, and he was telling it on the assumption that nobody in the room was bright enough to connect a random county to Lord Voldemort's past.

"What were you doing in Devon?" asked Scrimgeour.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot tell you." Harry repeated. Before the murmuring started again, Harry quickly added, "And with all due respect, sir, I don't understand how it is relevant to this hearing." This comment was greeted with silence, and many of the witches and wizards in the room turned to look at Scrimgeour, awaiting his response.

"Very well, then we shall move on. At what time were you and Albus Dumbledore joined by Madam Rosmerta?"

"I'm sorry sir, but I honestly don't know." Harry sighed and continued to answer the rest of the questions whilst detaching himself from the emotions they provoked. He left the courtroom exhausted and, to avoid further, informal questioning, hurried back to the atrium, and back home.

After the hearing, Harry really wanted to go back to bed but according to his plan, his day had barely started. He helped himself to a small glass of Lupin's firewhisky he found in one of the beige plastic kitchen cupboards. The first sip burned his throat and made him splutter as the heat spread immediately through his body, even to the tips of his fingers and toes. Harry closed his eyes and drank the rest of the liquid in one gulp. Next he retrieved both his cloak and broom, and set off for Spinner's End.

Harry did not know what he had expected to find, but he didn't find it. When he arrived he was cold, and the air was dark and misty, which was very odd for a warm July midday. Harry could tell immediately which house had belonged to Severus Snape. One shabby house was larger than the rest and had a distinct air of a building that had been neglected, often empty for long periods of time. In addition to this, when he pushed aside the front door, Harry felt a strong chill right through to his bones that had nothing to do with the weather.

The front door opened directly into a small, dingy sitting room where all the walls were lined with bookcases and cabinets. Harry proceeded through a door opposite, which led into a stone floored hallway, offering a staircase, or another door at the end of the corridor, which Harry presumed led towards the kitchen. Wearing his father's cloak only as a precaution, Harry did not expect to see anyone. Nevertheless, he walked quietly and carefully around the house, looking in every cupboard, checking every square inch for signs of charms or curses, or any clue at all. He knew that the Ministry had already searched Snape's home, but Harry knew better by now than to trust their judgement. He also knew that Snape couldn't have had much time to prepare his departure, as he didn't know about the Death Eaters' attack on Hogwarts until the Aurors had already been alerted. He may have had time to apparate back before anyone arrived to search the house, but it would not have been long. Harry could only assume that everything in the house was as it had been when Snape last returned to Hogwarts after the Easter break. There was no food, the bed was made, and everywhere was tidy but in need of cleaning. Harry wondered whether Snape had had a house-elf previous to his affirmation of being a Death Eater.

As Harry walked through the house, he felt distinctly uncomfortable. Each room was sparsely decorated, with cold floors and fading wallpaper with very little decoration anywhere, except for innumerable bookcases. Harry found one room with shelves covering every wall from floor to ceiling. Half the shelves were filled with books: Old books and new books, some secured with chains, some that moaned slightly and one that pulsed a deep crimson colour in time with Harry's breathing. The rest of the shelves carried bottles, boxes, tubes and phials filled with the vilest substances Harry could have imagined: Sheep's eyes, trolls' toenails, Doxy eggs, and unicorn blood were some that Harry recognised – many he did not. The whole room smelled of rot. Harry gagged as he rapidly retreated from the room. _Honestly_, he thought_, Dumbledore should've just taken a look in here, then he'd have known Snape was a Dark wizard! _Harry returned to the room at the front of the house, which held yet more books and some unusual relics in cases and cabinets around the room. Harry paused to peer at an age-blackened silver dish bearing an unfamiliar emblem, and several small brass objects that looked like ancient thimbles. Harry moved his attention to the bookcase and read some of the spines: "_The Bound Unbound_" and "_Asian Fungi: Poisons and Parasites_". Harry felt a breeze around his ankles and, disappointed to have yet again found nothing of use, decided it was time to leave.

Shortly after Harry returned to the house in Manchester, Lupin arrived, looking more tired and dishevelled than Harry had ever seen him. Harry made some tea and heated some mushroom soup, which he brought into the bedroom where Lupin was lying on the out-stretched sofa with his eyes closed. He sat up when Harry entered, and took the hot refreshments gladly.

"So have you settled in?" Lupin asked. Harry was still distracted by his former teacher's diminished appearance and was a little slow in answering.

"I've not been here long," he finally replied, "but it seems comfortable enough. Thank you, by the way, for letting me stay here,"

"Nonsense!" Lupin exclaimed. "You're more than welcome to stay as long as you need, even as long as you'd like."

Harry was worried about Lupin. Every time they met each other Harry was sure that Lupin had lost weight and a greater proportion of his hair was grey. Harry had seen photographs of Lupin in his youth, but he wouldn't have guessed the healthy, studious friend of his father's would become the dishevelled man opposite him. Only two weeks ago they had been talking together and Harry was sure he heard resentment in Lupin's voice when they discussed several topics. Under Hermione's orders (though she called them her suggestions) Harry had asked Lupin to accompany him to Godric's Hollow. Lupin had readily agreed, and said he was surprised Harry hadn't asked him earlier. The two of them met outside the Dursley's at six o'clock in the morning – Lupin thought it would be better to go early in the morning as there was a smaller chance of them being spotted – and Lupin had assisted Harry in apparating to his birthplace. Harry's first reaction was that it was a beautiful place. Godric's Hollow was a small village with several old stone houses on the top of the hill, and some newer brick houses with enclosed gardens at the bottom of the hill. There was also a silver stream running cheerfully across the grasslands that enclosed the settlement. Harry and Lupin had strolled around for a short while, discussing trivial things such as Quidditch and how Harry had spent the first few weeks of his holiday. They each bought a strawberry ice-cream from a quaint gift shop and ate them sitting on a bench that overlooked the stream.

"I must confess, Harry," said Lupin, "I have been here a few times, though never when your parents were living here. They moved away from Shropshire, where they bought their first house, just after you were born. Down there" (Lupin indicated the bottom of the hill) "was where they lived, but the houses were stone like the ones up the hill. These brick ones were built only a few years ago for the commuters." Harry didn't know what to say so took another mouthful of ice-cream. "The graveyard is at the top of the hill, if you want to go. We don't have to go today if you don't want to, we can always come back another time," Lupin said kindly. Harry finished his ice-cream and licked his lips.

"I'd like to go today," Harry replied.

"Very well." Lupin stood and strode slowly up the hill. Harry kept in stride next to him.

"Have you been to the graveyard before?" Harry asked.

"Yes, once," Lupin replied. "At the burial service." There was a stiffness in Lupin's voice that Harry hadn't noticed before, but which rendered him reluctant to ask any more questions. They arrived at the graveyard within a few minutes. Lupin was panting slightly, so Harry walked on ahead. It was as though some force had taken over Harry and was leading him towards his parents' graves. He stood and looked down at a large black stone, unremarkable from many similar stones. Harry traced over the engraved words with his fingers: _James Potter & Lily Potter_. Harry felt his chest tighten uncomfortably. He was suddenly grateful to Hermione for suggesting that he visit Godric's Hollow with Lupin, rather than go alone. Had Lupin not been there to see it, Harry was sure he would have broken down. Visiting the place where his parents had been destroyed caused a huge surge of remembrance of everyone he'd ever lost. The slowly healing wound of Sirius' death had been carved wide open by Dumbledore's parting. It was now a wound that looked set not to heal, but Harry ignored it. He knew that he couldn't think about either occasion or he wouldn't be able to continue, so resolutely forced them to the back of his mind whenever they tried to resurface. Harry became aware of Lupin standing just behind him. He shook himself mentally and turned around. It was then he noticed how bare his parents' grave looked compared to many others that were obviously visited often and well looked after.

"I didn't think to bring any flowers," Harry mumbled.

"Not to worry." Lupin flicked his wand in a series of jerky movements. When Harry turned back, an array of petals and leaves of all different colours had settled happily around the gravestone, making it the most beautiful plot it the whole cemetery.

"Your soup will go cold." Harry jerked back from his reflections and was surprised to find himself still sitting opposite Lupin in the bedroom. He hurriedly finished the last few mouthfuls of his soup and handed the bowl back to Lupin. "You look tired," he said. "Perhaps you should take an early night." Harry nodded and stood to close the curtains. Before he left the room, Lupin turned back and said, "Happy Birthday, Harry."


	3. Chapter 3 The Order of the Phoenix

**Chapter 3 – The Order of the Phoenix**

It was three days previously that Harry had unexpectedly received a magically sealed yellowish envelope delivered by a very small screech owl. Upon opening it, he had been confused to read the small, carefully printed figures, which read simply

_12-13-14_

He had puzzled this for quite sometime, until he noticed that when he held the parchment up to the light, the crest of the Order of the Phoenix was visible. When Hermione arrived, she confirmed his theory that he was invited to an official Order of the Phoenix meeting, which was to be held at 12, Grimmauld Place, on the 13th of the month, at 2pm.

"They're keeping the same Headquarters?" Harry had asked, astounded. "What if _he_ shows up? What if he's told Voldemort where it is?"

Hermione sighed. "Honestly Harry, don't you think the Order has thought of that? Snape won't show up, we'd kill him before he could get through the door. Furthermore, Grimmauld Place is protected by a Secret Keeper. Only that person can tell anyone where the headquarters are, and that person certainly isn't Snape. Lastly, I think the house has a personal preference charm on it." At Harry's puzzled look, she continued, "Which means that nobody can enter unless the house owner has agreed to it it. Since you've offered the house as Order headquarters, anyone who is a member of the Order can enter. In fact, unless you've invited anyone else in, then _only_ the Order can enter."

"Have you been asked to join the Order, too?" Harry asked her.

"Yes," Hermione replied, "and so has Ron." With this news, Harry had decided that Ron should also join his regular sessions with Hermione, so that they could discuss matters of the Order. At this first such meeting, held on 12th August, a Friday, each of them spent the first five minutes checking and strengthening the various charms surrounding Lupin's house to ensure their safety and privacy. Ron, like Harry, was very excited about finally being allowed to join the Order.

"Finally we'll actually know what's going on," voiced Harry.

"Yeah, no more playing around with Extendable Ears and grasping bits and pieces here and there," Ron agreed.

Hermione looked amused. "Ironically," she said, "we will actually know a lot more about what's going on than the Order." Harry had already told them that no one, without exception, was to be told about the Horcrux theory. Dumbledore had not ever given Harry permission to discuss this with anyone except Ron and Hermione, and Harry had no intention of doing so, at least until Voldermort was definitely, undoubtedly, dead. "You have to tell them something Harry. They'll know that you had private lessons with Dumbledore, and we all know you were out with him the night he was murdered. If we can't tell them about the Horcruxes, what do you think we should say?"

"I can't say anything about the Horcruxes, because there are only four people that know, which includes us and Voldemort, and he doesn't know that we know." Ron looked confused, so Harry explained further, "If Voldemort finds out that we know about the Horcruxes, I'm sure it will be much harder to destroy them. As it is, he won't know they've been destroyed until it's too late. I can't risk telling anyone, even the Order, in case it leaks back to Voldemort."

"Imagine if Dumbledore _had _told the Order." Ron looked horrified. "I mean, Snape would have gone straight to V-v-vold-d-demort" (Hermione looked proud) "and we would have lost our only gain on him."

"Precisely," said Harry. "I think I'll just tell them that we've been researching Voldemort's past to see if we can find any clues about how to weaken or even destroy him. So far we've been unsuccessful." Harry's hand went instinctively to the fake Horcrux he now wore around his neck as a constant reminder of how much there was still to be done.

When Harry arrived for his first Order meeting, it was Kingsley Shacklebolt who granted him entry. Harry shivered in the ancient, unwelcoming House of Black. He was forcibly reminded of how Sirius had hated being stuck in here, not allowed out in case he was sighted. Harry's insides ached with all sorts of emotions, including guilt and loneliness, mingled with a fierce hatred directed jointly at Snape and Voldemort. Harry pushed these thoughts aside as he took a seat in the familiar dining room between Charlie Weasley and a short witch with very long chestnut coloured hair. He peered around the table to find Moody, Tonks, six assorted Weasleys, Hermione, McGonagall, several more witches and wizards he recognised, and some that he did not know. When everyone had arrived and was seated, Harry counted 21 people including himself. It was suddenly very quiet, as though each person had been struck by _silencio_. All eyes moved to Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody as he rose from his chair to address the assembled Order.

"One or two things before we get started. The Head of the Order of the Phoenix was Albus Dumbledore. As you would imagine, he's not quite capable of the position anymore. I'll be doing it for now, but should any of you wish to recommend yourselves as more competent than me, I assure you there will be no hard feelings." Nobody spoke as Moody cleared his throat and continued, "You will have noticed, I'm sure, that we have allowed some younger wizards into the Order." His magical eye flickered round the table and sought out Ron, Harry and Hermione, as did the eyes of the other occupants of the room. "This is at the request of Albus Dumbledore, who indicated that should he be irreversibly injured or impaired in any way that would render him useless to the Order, Mr Potter and his associates should be invited to join the Order if they were not already members. It is out of Harry's generosity that we are able to use this house as headquarters. Now then, unless anybody has any urgent issues that cannot wait, we will commence with the agenda."

Harry sat in an attentive silence while Moody and others talked about recruiting more witches and wizards to the Order, about geographical patterns in Dementor attacks, the names and addresses of known Death Eaters, and the likelihood that the Goblins were going to join forces with Voldemort. Tonks and Arthur Weasley were able to divulge some Ministry plans, including mention of Ministry intervention at Hogwarts, which Harry sincerely wished would not be as disastrous as the Umbridge fiasco. The witch beside Harry, whose name was Betina Briarthorn, told of rumours that workers at St Mungo's were being approached by Death Eaters to either turn sides or be killed. This news was alarming, as two hospital workers had been found dead in the past two days, and Healers were becoming increasingly in demand, for obvious reasons.

Finally, McGonagall related plans regarding the protection of Hogwarts. She began by hinting that it would be useful to have members of the Order inside the school, but it wasn't until she had been speaking for some time that Harry realised she meant him, Ron and Hermione. With a sinking feeling, Harry realised he couldn't indicate that she might have to think of something else, so when McGonagall asked

"Can I count on you three to patrol and report without getting found out?"

Harry replied with a stiff nod. Ron and Hermione followed his lead, both answering that they would do as she suggested. This was followed by a discussion about the new staff at Hogwarts. It became apparent that Flitwick had not returned from his mysterious disappearance, so Professor Sprout would be occupying the post of Deputy Headmistress, and McGonagall had asked whether Fleur would be prepared to teach charms, as she had excelled in the subject at her own school, Beauxbatons. Harry could imagine how revolted Ginny would be when she found out. Slughorn was to remain and teach potions, but a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had not yet been found to replace Snape, and McGonagall was having to ask overseas wizards for their assistance. Harry's insides squirmed uncomfortably at the mention of his former potions master but he managed to maintain a calm exterior.

Not much later, the meeting had ended. There was much shuffling as chairs were pushed out and people took their leave. Harry remained seated and was soon joined by Ron and Hermione.

"Turned out it's not that interesting after all," Ron observed. Hermione hissed at him.

"I thought it was very interesting. But what on earth are we going to do about McGonagall?" Hermione looked distraught. She'd never disobeyed a direct order from a teacher, let alone lied about it.

"We'll just get Ginny, Neville and Luna to do it." Harry was confident that this was a good plan, but he caught the other two exchanging concerned looks, so he said, "Look, _we_ can't do it, and those three can take care of themselves. We'll discuss it later," he told them, nodding in the direction of Mrs Weasley, who was coming over to them.

"We thought it might be nice if we had a meal here together, Harry, so you can get a bit of company. What do you think?" Mrs Weasley smiled kindly at Harry as he looked around, and realised that all the Weasleys and Tonks were still there.

"Sure," he said. Mrs Weasley bustled off to start cooking and the twins appeared behind Ron. "Hi" Harry greeted them, and thought aloud "How come Bill's not here?"

"He's at home, looking after Ginny," said Fred.

"She's livid," said George, "but she thinks you'll tell her everything anyway, Harry."

"Yeah, I probably will," Harry agreed, "if I ever get to see her again."

Mrs Weasley called the twins over to help. As Fred and George skulked off, Ron said, "She misses you, Harry." Harry grinned despite himself and absent-mindedly played with the locket around his neck. Suddenly he froze. Hermione had opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but Harry had already jumped up, knocking his chair over in his haste, and ran out of the room. "Harry!" Ron called, as he and Hermione deserted their seats and chased after him. Harry ran on legs that felt like jelly to the living room, and stopped abruptly at the large, faded and defaced tapestry that was stuck irrevocably to the wall. It was with watering eyes and a tight chest that Harry glanced over the Blacks' family tree, until he found the charred hole that would have been Sirius' name near the bottom. Ron and Hermione had arrived behind him.

"Harry, what…" Hermione began, then stopped as she saw Harry's finger, tracing the name on the board. "R.A.B" she whispered. Ron leant forward and pulled Harry's hand aside to read what was written there – Regulus Axbram Black. Harry gulped down a lot of stale air and remembered what Sirius had said about his brother: _He joined the Death Eaters… he was murdered…on Voldemort's orders…_ "Do you think it was him?" Hermione asked in a voice most unlike her own, and so quiet it was barely audible.

Harry was moving again. He went out into the hall, turned sharply and hurried up the steep staircase, being careful not to wake the portrait of old Mrs Black. He ran right to the end of the corridor, to the boiler room, and yanked open the door. The large cupboard still stank of Kreacher and, Harry was thankful, still contained all the items he had saved from Sirius' clearout two years previously. Harry dropped to his knees and began frantically rummaging around through the house-elf's collection. His hand spurted blood as it caught on a shard of glass from a broken photo frame but Harry didn't notice. His heart was thumping wildly, threatening to break through his rib cage when Harry's hand closed around something metallic. Hardly daring to breathe, he brought it closer to him, and studied the heavy locket. The intricate engraving of a serpent twisted to form the letter S was unmistakably the mark of Salazar Slytherin. Harry heard footsteps approaching behind him. Still kneeling, he turned his head to see Ron and Hermione standing a couple of feet away. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"It's all right," he said, "it won't hurt you." He held up the Horcrux for them to see. Ron looked like he was going to vomit and Hermione burst into tears. Despite feeling elated that the locket had been located, Harry felt a huge chasm tear through him. It had been here, the whole time. They needn't have gone to the cave to collect the false Horcrux. Harry knew that if they hadn't gone then Dumbledore would still be alive. He'd died for nothing. It had been here all the time. Harry felt as though the floor moved beneath him. He took a deep, steadying breath and stood to face the other two.

"Well," he said, and his voice was much steadier than he would have imagined, "we still have to check that it is a Horcrux. It might not be, we were only guessing…" he trailed off as Hermione and Ron turned whiter still. Harry concealed Slytherin's locket safely in his robes. "Come on," he took Hermione's hand and held Ron just above his elbow. "Dinner, remember?" He lead them back downstairs, finding himself suddenly calmed, which apparently reassured his friends as the colour returned to their faces. As they all settled down to eat, Harry resolved himself yet again that he would find the remaining Horcruxes, and kill Voldemort as soon as was humanly possible.

By the time Harry had finished eating, his mood had improved substantially. Fred and George were constantly joking, and told anyone and everyone who would listen about new products they were developing. "Barnet bonbons will be an enormous success," George exclaimed. "Pop them in your mouth and they'll turn your hair the most amazing colours!"

"Not that you'd need them," Harry heard Fred saying to Tonks, "but how do you think the rest of the auror office would respond?" Harry was still intent on becoming an auror, but it was difficult for him to gauge the likelihood of his success where considering his present situation. Surely if Harry were able to defeat Voldemort, he would meet the requirements of a Ministry division that dealt with apprehending dark wizards. On the other hand, if application to the auror training programme was as strict and inflexible as Harry imagined it to be, he would be at a disadvantage to all those students who would be taking their NEWTs at the end of the year, as they would all have formal qualifications. Curious to find out more, Harry pulled Tonks aside after dinner.

"Hey, Tonks. I was wondering, what do you need to get into auror training? Do you need specific qualifications, or is it mainly based on interviews and stuff?"

"You thinking of becoming an auror, Harry?" she asked.

"Well, yeah," Harry said, seeing no harm in telling the truth. "I think I'd be good at it," he said, raising an eyebrow to demonstrate that he was aware of the irony of being trained by the Ministry to do a job he was already capable of, particularly for a wizard of his age.

"Well it's a combination of lots of things really," Tonks replied. "Firstly, you do need at least a good pass in your defence against the dark arts, potions and transfiguration NEWTs, as well as passing two other subjects, preferably charms and herbology, but there is a bit of leeway. Then once you've got your grades, a copy will also have been sent to the auror office if you apply before you take your NEWTs, which I'd recommend. If you've passed well, they'll invite you to a series of interviews, which aren't too bad overall. If you're impressive in these interviews, you then have to go on a sort of camp for about three days, where, to be perfectly honest, they really do try and break you. If you come out of that okay then they'll take you on as a trainee auror. After ten months you get an examination, which is tough. Only if you pass this can you continue the training, which will last another 26 months. Then if you pass another set of horrific tests you'll become an official auror." By this point, Harry looked less interested and more dispirited. Tonks laughed at his disheartened expression. "The Ministry have about 50 applicants every year, out of which about three usually complete the training. Don't worry, Harry, if I can do it, you can. Merlin knows I've never fought You-Know-Who." Harry thanked her for the compliment, but he was now more confused than he was before.

Harry returned home alone, his mind buzzing. He took Slytherin's relic from his pocket and wished he knew how to tell if it was really a Horcrux, and how to destroy part of a soul when it was located. Hermione had not been able to find any books on the subject, and Harry couldn't safely go round making enquiries. Horcruxes were a banned subject at Hogwarts, so most people were unlikely to have heard of them, and those that had, such as Professor Slughorn, refused to talk about them. Harry looked down at the ancient locket and wondered what he should do with it now. He placed it on the desk and, taking his wand out, transfigured it into a teapot. Astounded that this had actually worked, Harry placed the lime green teapot in the bottom kitchen cupboard. He pushed it all the way to the back and fixed it with a sticking charm. He wanted to protect it but didn't want to attract attention to it by using too much magic, so Harry covered the teapot with a particularly grubby tea towel and closed the cupboard door. He suddenly felt drained, as if hiding the teapot has exerted him to his fullest extent. Harry trudged back into the bedroom and slumped onto the bed. It was still early – it wasn't even dark outside – but Harry's eyes drooped, and soon he was fast asleep.

It was with a jolt that Harry awoke some hours later. The room was dark and cold; Harry's face hurt where his glasses had pressed into his skin as he'd slept. He removed them and rubbed his eyes. He retrieved his wand and aimed it at the rusty grate, where a fire leapt into life. Harry smiled, knowing that there were now several spells he could successfully cast non-verbally. With the flickering orange glow now illuminating the room it was difficult for Harry to remember his dream. It had been very confusing, like he was dreaming three different dreams all at once. Harry closed the faded blue curtains, got undressed and climbed under the faded blue bed covers. He'd been angry in the dream but he couldn't think why. As he turned over, he saw the three locations again – a large house with many rooms, a smaller house at the end of a street, and a tiny house in the middle of nowhere… perhaps by the ocean. Harry closed his eyes and drifted this time into a peaceful sleep, where he dreamed of sailing a boat through Hogwarts castle on a river of liquid gold.


	4. Chapter 4 Malfoy Murdered

**Chapter 4 – Malfoy Murdered**

It was the evening of the last day of August, the day before the new term at Hogwarts began. Ron and Ginny were packing their trunks while Mrs Weasley fussed around them, making sure they had everything they needed (except their new school books, which had to bought direct from Hogwarts) and re-folding their clothes back into the cases.

"Mum!" Ginny finally complained, "I've been doing this for five years! I'll be fine!"

"I know dear," Mrs Weasley said soothingly, "But I'll be so worried about you… Merlin knows the school isn't as safe as we all thought…" She trailed off and began to cry softly, so Ginny gave up packing and comforted her mother.

Ron, meanwhile, had finished checking and re-checking the contents of his trunk, and now began tying up his shoelaces before reaching for his old and battered travelling cloak. "You're going now?" Mrs Weasley asked him.

"Yeah," Ron said. Noticing that his mother was on the verge of a fresh wave of tears, he added, "I'd better go now, it's already starting to get dark, and I don't want to keep her parents waiting."

"I suppose," his mother said, before letting out a small wail and holding her son in a tight hug, from which he had to squirm to get free.

"Mum, geroff!" He protested. "It's only school. There'll be Aurors there and everything. We'll be safer there than here." Molly sniffed and hugged him again for good measure. Ron cast a warning look at Ginny before hovering his trunk downstairs to the living room. Ron and Hermione had agreed that both sets of parents would be less than understanding if they knew their children were skipping their final year of school to chase after Dark wizards. Hermione had told her parents that to save them the hassle of taking her to London, she was going to meet up with a friend and they would travel together. Ron had slightly more trouble convincing Mrs Weasley. He had told her that he thought the prefects were going to have lots more responsibility, and that he should arrive at Platform 9¾ early. To convince her further, he said that Harry and Hermione would also be there early, then suggested it would be a good idea if the three of them stayed over at Hermione's house the night before and travelled together. His mother had finally conceded, mainly out of pride for Ron's being a prefect with responsibilities, and because Harry and Hermione were also going to be there, and they would be accompanied by Hermione's parents.

Ron positioned himself near the fireplace, checking that nobody could overhear him. He charmed his suitcase so it was no heavier than a balloon and held it close to his body. Then he threw a handful of Floo powder into the flames and clearly announced "The Leaky Cauldron!"

Hermione was waiting anxiously in the pub, also with a lightweight suitcase and wearing her travelling cloak, with her eyes on the fire. She started when Ron appeared in the grate, then hurried over to him. Ron grinned broadly in greeting, which made Hermione turn slightly pink. "We ought to just go," she said. At Ron's nod, they both turned on the spot and disappeared, taking their luggage with them. Several seconds later, they reappeared at the end of a long grey street with grey tarmac pavements lined with tall grey buildings. "Hurry," said Hermione, and they made their way swiftly and quietly down the road, carrying their weightless trunks with them, casting long shadows across the endless stretches of cracked pavement. At number 57, they stopped. Hermione glanced around to check they were not being followed. She pointed her wand at the front door and wordlessly began unlocking it, muttering the passwords 'Snuffles' and 'Phoenix' at the required intervals. She turned back to Ron and beckoned him to enter. As they stepped over the threshold, they saw the silhouette of a person standing at the top of the stairs; a person with very unruly hair.

"Glad you could make it," Harry said. Hermione began reinstalling the locking charms on the door as Ron took their trunks upstairs towards Harry.

"Mum nearly didn't let me come," Ron told him. "Ginny's agreed to do everything we say but she hasn't spoken to me all week." Harry indicated the bedroom, and Ron turned left at the top of the stairs and deposited the cases. Harry perched on the edge of the bed by the window.

"Did you give her the notebook?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, though it kinda freaked her out a bit. She said it was like Tom Riddle's Diary."

"Yes," said Harry, "that was intentional." The notebook they were referring to was a clever bit of magic performed by Hermione. It was their way of communicating safely with Ginny so that their conversations could not be intercepted. Ginny would write in her notebook, and whatever she wrote would appear in Harry's book and vice versa. However, the books had to be kept hidden, as anyone could read it should they find it. Harry kept his on top of the wardrobe and checked it twice a day, though nothing had been written yet.

Hermione joined them in the bedroom where the trunks, now heavy as they ought to be, were lying on the floor in the little space between the two beds. Harry stretched out comfortably on his bed, while Ron and Hermione perched on the sofa bed.

"So this is home?" Hermione asked, regarding the room with an apparent distaste.

"Yeah well, none of us are working and Lupin can't really hold down a job, can he?" Harry asked, a touch defensive of his new home, and indignant on Lupin's behalf, still silently furious about people's treatment of werewolves. On the other hand, given that the most well known werewolf was Fenrir Greyback who had savaged Bill Weasley among countless others, it was hardly surprising the prejudice against them existed. "Besides," Harry added, "it's probably a load better than where he's living at the moment."

"I wouldn't fancy it. Imagine living with that Greyback" Ron shuddered.

"No, I wouldn't want to do it either," Harry agreed. He stood up and stretched. "By the way, I don't intend for anyone to be able to find me, so I plan on moving around a lot, not staying put for too long," he thought of Professor Slughorn when he said this, who had no home of his own, but resided in the houses of Muggles when their occupants had vacated it for holidays, etc. "So this is only temporary, okay?" His friends nodded and Harry's features relaxed into a smile. "You two hungry?"

Harry fried some rice and vegetables together. Hermione conjured a hard wooden chair in order that the small and battered kitchen table would accommodate all three of them. "Where did you learn that?" Ron asked.

"I thought conjuring spells might come in useful," Hermione told him matter-of-factly. "I'm not very good though; I was aiming for a comfy armchair, and it'll fade in an hour or so anyway."

They ate fast, not talking much. Harry hadn't been very specific about the task they would do that evening, only that they were collecting ingredients for potions, ingredients that could not be bought from an Apothecary's. He handed the list of required constituents to Ron, who had finished consumed his dinner so rapidly that he had already finished.

"I dunno how you're gonna get some of these," Ron sounded doubtful. "Where're you gonna get unicorn hair?"

"That one's easy," Harry said. "Some of the others will be more difficult".

"And what's Atropa Belladonna?" Ron continued. Hermione looked up sharply from her meal, but Harry was giving nothing away. "Sallow roots? Surely you can get those from a shop?"

"Actually, no. It's not a very common ingredient. In fact, I think that all the potions that require sallow roots are banned by the Ministry," Harry admitted. Hermione decided it was time to speak.

"What is it you're making, Harry? A potion that requires unicorn hair and deadly nightshade that's banned by the Ministry! It sounds awfully dangerous."

"Well it will be dangerous if we don't brew it properly," Harry conceded, as he pushed back his plate and stood from his chair, "but I'm collecting the ingredients now so we've got time to correct it if necessary. Plus the sallow roots need to ferment for about a month first. So we'd better get going. I'll take the cloak just in case, but I don't think anyone will see us anyway. Grab an arm each then." Both Hermione and Ron looked sceptical as they prepared for Harry to guide them in apparition.

Harry had already asked Hagrid to send him some unicorn hair so was expecting to receive it any day now. However, the deadly nightshade and sallow roots, amongst other ingredients, he was hoping to obtain from an obliging field, the details of which were listed on one of the several pieces of paper he had brought and kept hidden in the top drawer. Harry knew Hermione would fuss about making a potion without knowing what it was – he just hoped she wouldn't figure out the potion too soon.

The next morning, Harry and Ron were abruptly awoken as Hermione burst vocally into their room, her hair the bushiest Harry had ever seen it. "'Mione, go 'way, we're sleepin," Ron moaned and rolled over. Ron was sleeping on the sofa bed, and Hermione had been sleeping on the ugly sofa in the dining area of the kitchen. Harry, who had been lying awake for several long minutes already, saw that Hermione was clutching the new copy of the _Daily Prophet_ in one hand. The headline read '**Controversy at Ministry.**' _What's new? _Harry thought. Apparently, this was not the news Hermione had come to tell them.

"He's dead!" she shouted, which got Ron's attention.

"Who's dead?" Ron asked, sitting suddenly up, though his eyes were bleary and his hair ruffled.

"Lucius Malfoy," Hermione told them.

"So what?" Ron began rolling back over. "Good riddance I'd say." Harry, however, was acutely interested.

"How? Who killed him?" he already had his suspicions, which Hermione confirmed.

"It was Voldemort himself, with the Avada Kedavra curse. It says that Voldemort actually entered Azkaban, and the Dementors just let him through."

"Well they would, wouldn't they?" Harry interjected.

"'_Eyewitnesses said they heard He Who Must Not Be Named speaking to convicted Death Eater Lucius Malfoy. He spoke of the Malfoy family being no use to him anymore. Ignoring the pleads of the prisoner, He Who Must Not Be Named then cast the unforgivable killing curse and disappeared.'_ That's odd. You can't disapparate from Azkaban. It's supposed to be difficult to get there in the first place."

"I doubt that it was his first time," Harry said. He found himself wondering where Draco Malfoy was and if he knew his father had been murdered. Not for the first time in his life, Harry felt a stab of pity for Draco.

Hermione seemed to be sharing this trend of thought, but Ron was obviously more fixed in his dislike of the Malfoys as he mumbled "Hopefully he can finish the whole family off before too long."

* * *

The news had also greeted students as they boarded the Hogwarts Express, though it didn't have much of an effect there. Most students were unconcerned with the murder of a convicted Death Eater, though a few Slytherins were curious enough to ask each other whether any of them had heard anything from Draco over the summer (which, of course, no one had). There were far fewer students than usual, as many families had decided to keep their children at home this term. As Ginny came through the barrier onto the platform, accompanied by both her parents, she couldn't locate any of her friends.

"I wonder where Ron is?" Mrs Weasley commented.

"The prefects are probably busy on the train already, adding extra protection charms, things like that," Ginny offered. That seemed to satisfy her mother, so Ginny took her trunk and hoisted it onto the train. After saying goodbye to her parents, Ginny found herself an empty compartment, which was much easier than previous years, due to the lack of students. She nestled herself in the corner and opened her schoolbag. From it, she removed a blank piece of parchment, an empty notebook and a gold Galleon. Taking out her wand, she tapped the coin and incanted "_summoncilio_". She next took her self-inking quill from Fred & George, opened the notebook to the first page, and wrote '_On the train_.' The writing varnished seconds later. Ginny hastily stowed the quill and notebook back into her bag as two figures arrived at the door to her compartment. Neville Longbottom entered, followed by Luna Lovegood, who looked, as usual, as though she had wondered in by accident. "Hi," Ginny greeted them.

"You called us?" Neville asked, taking the seat opposite. Luna sat next to Ginny, who leaned over and locked the compartment door before speaking very quietly.

"We've got work to do this year," she told them. Ginny spent the journey to Hogwarts explaining about the Order of the Phoenix, the Marauders' Map, Harry's absence from school to go after Voldemort, and lots more things that she had become aware of over the summer. Both Neville and Luna were excited to help in any way they could, and although she liked them already, Ginny felt herself warming to these odd two students considerably.

When they arrived at Hogwarts, students were immediately escorted into the Great Hall, which was as welcoming as ever, the ceiling a clear indigo studded with stars. Professor Sprout now sat in McGonagall's old chair, and Snape's seat had been taken by Professor Slughorn. As Ginny surveyed the staff table, she recognised Mad-Eye Moody, and, of course, knew that Fleur would be teaching charms in Professor Flitwick's place. There was one face she didn't recognise, which belonged to a wizard with bronze coloured skin and very long black hair, dressed in smart robes of dark blue. The reason for his presence was unknown, as the teaching positions for each subject had been allocated to the other professors. Ginny guessed he might be teaching transfiguration if McGonagall was busy with Headmistress duties and working for the Order. She'd begun discussing this theory with Neville, who'd sat beside her, when McGonagall entered, signalling silence. Behind her was a line of very small, nervous-looking students, standing close together as they approached the staff table. In front of the table was a small wooden stool, upon which was placed a very old and tatty pointed hat. To the amazement of the new first years and delight of the rest of the school, a particularly large tear near the rim of the hat opened wide as it began to sing:

_Here I sit before you – an old and battered hat,_

_And yet I must implore you not to think of me like that._

_For centuries it's been my job to sort you into four:_

_Hard workers into Hufflepuff, good brains to Ravenclaw,_

_Cunning into Slytherin and brave to Gryffindor._

_Our days are very dark now, you know not who to trust._

_Cursed as I am to sort you, divide you up I must._

_Yet if I had my own way, and were not a hat,_

_There'd be no segregation, for where's the good in that?_

_I'd keep you all together inside these castle walls_

_Until the battle's won and this age of Darkness falls._

_So put me on and I will place you where you ought to be_

_Just remember: work together, avoid this rivalry, _

_For hate and conflict will destroy our Hogwarts family._

"That was short," Neville whispered, Ginny nodded in agreement. They watched without talking as the first years were sorted, and ten new Gryffindors joined the table. After the cheering had subsided, Professor McGonagall stood to make the welcome speech for the first time.

"Good evening. I would like to welcome back all of you who had left us, and greet those who are new." She paused to smile, rather uncharacteristically, at the first years now scattered around the hall. "As you know, there have been some changes to the teaching staff for this year. Professor Sprout is the new Deputy Headmistress, and will still remain professor of Herbology and Head of Hufflepuff. The new Head of Slytherin house is Professor Slugorn, and the new Head of House for Gryffindor is Professor Knowles, teacher of Muggle Studies."

At this point, Professor Knowles, a short, jolly-looking grey haired wizard Ginny had not met, gave a jovial wave to the Gryffindor table. "As for subject teachers, I'd like to welcome back Ms Delacour, who has graciously agreed to teach charms for a short period."

A frightened murmur spread through the hall, which Ginny presumed was to do with Flitwick's unexplained disappearance. "Your Defence against the Dark Arts lessons will be shared by Professors Alasator Moody and Ezekiel Obeah." Here she indicated the scarred, one-legged auror, Mad-Eye Moody, and the unfamiliar wizard, who nodded a greeting to the students.

Professor McGonagall continued, "You will be experiencing some changes this year with regard to timetables and your free time. Absolutely nobody, for any reason, is permitted outside of the castle, even into the grounds. All flying lessons and all Quidditch games are cancelled until further notice. Care of Magical Creatures lessons will now be held inside the castle. Any student caught outside will face immediate expulsion. No teacher has the power to grant you permission to go outside, so do not bother asking. Similarly, any student found wondering the corridors for no valid reason will be sent straight home. These rules have been laid in place for your protection. If you wish to remain at Hogwarts this year, you will abide by them."

Students seated in the hall hardly dared breathe; they'd had no idea McGonagall could be so foreboding. "Students will wait in their house common room until collected by a member of staff who will escort them. Any students found anywhere in the school when not accompanied by a member of staff will find themselves in serious trouble." Her tone relaxed slightly as she continued, "Although you are welcome to continue sending and receiving letters by owl, please be aware that all post will first be checked by the Ministry of Magic, so I would advise not sending anything untoward. Lastly, when you receive your timetables, you will notice that you have double the amount of Defence against the Dark Arts lessons as you would normally expect. The Ministry would like to encourage awareness and practice of defensive magic, and have laid out a special curriculum to be taught to you in your lessons with Professor Moody. As so few tudents have returned to Hogwarts this year, your whole year group will have the same timetable. Before we eat, I urge you to remember than not even Hogwarts is safe, and the staff are here to help." She finally smiled. "Now tuck in!"

* * *

Harry was practicing Legilimency on Hermione as she prepared the sallow roots for fermentation. Mostly she was concentrating on what she was doing, but occasionally a random spell or fact drifted through her mind, giving Harry the impression that she was secretly revising to herself. Curious, Harry turned his attention to Ron, who was idly changing the colour of the wallpaper – he'd already tried red, blue and yellow, now he was becoming more inventive and had managed a faint purple. Harry delved into his thoughts and found that over the summer, Ron had been asking Ginny to continually hex him while he tried to conjure appropriate blocks. Suddenly, without warning, Harry was witnessing Ron's memory of standing alone in the bathroom practising chat-up lines in the mirror. Suppressing a laugh, Harry hastily switched to practising Occlumency instead.

Several cold days passed before Harry was ready to venture out again. Hermione spent most of her time in the local library, searching for traces of the remaining Horcruxes. According to all wizarding sources, nothing had been seen of Hufflepuff's goblet since the death of Hepzibah Smith fifty years ago. So Hermione was now trawling through archived newspapers in case something appeared in the Muggle news that may have been unremarkable to the _Prophet_. "It's easier with the computers, of course," she told Harry one morning before leaving, "but trying to find a reference to something that Muggles wouldn't recognise is horribly tedious."

Ron divided his time between the library with Hermione and spell practice with Harry. He kept questioning Harry about the illegal potion they were making, on Hermione's orders, but Harry wasn't ready to tell them yet. He hadn't confided in them a lot of his plan, thinking it best that they only worry about one little piece at a time. In truth, his plan overall was very sketchy – he was still filling in the details as he went. He'd also been bothered again by confusing dreams about three houses in the ocean, but it was starting to make a little sense to him, like the locations in the dream were becoming familiar. He half wanted to keep having them so he could understand it better, and half wanted to block them in case Voldemort was planning on leading him astray, as he did two years before; Harry remembered bitterly how his dream showed Voldemort torturing a captured Sirius so that Harry would try to rescue his godfather at the Ministry. He cleared these thoughts and returned again to transforming a teacup into a tortoise and back without speaking the incantation. He was alone in the house, as Ron had decided to visit the library that morning. He and Hermione had only been gone a couple of hours when they returned, looking quite pleased with themselves.

"Did you find something, then?" Harry asked, excitedly.

"Maybe," was Hermione's non-committal answer, "but if not then at least we could be on the right track." She paused to catch her breath and Ron took the chance to continue their story.

"Hermione said we should be checking for all sorts of things, including digs, archaeological finds, stuff like that. Then I found this article, tiny little thing, from about 20 years ago. Says about a dig near Scarborough, where they found loads of unusual relics. One was this cup that looked like it was made of solid gold. Says it's in this museum nearby." Ron looked impressed with his own ingenuity, but Hermione wasn't looking so cheerful.

"It might not be the right one, though, Harry. On the other hand, if a Muggle found it, it would be likely to be in a museum, wouldn't it?"

"I guess," Harry replied. "I think we should check this one out anyway. I know there's only a slim chance it's the right one… though I don't know what Voldemort would have been doing in Scarborough…"

Only an hour later, having eaten a quick lunch of cheese sandwiches, Harry, Ron and Hermione found themselves outside the Museum of Local History in Scarborough. They hurried inside, as it was very windy and, as was becoming increasingly usual, cold and misty outside. Harry paid their way inside while Hermione asked an attendant where they would find the relics from the dig twenty years ago. As they wondered through the museum, Ron whispered to Harry, "Suppose it is the right one, how do you reckon we're gonna get it out of here?"

"I dunno. No magic, that's for sure, I don't want to be detected. Hermione will think of something." It was, however, unnecessary for Hermione to formulate a plan in the near future, as the goblet was not the one they were seeking. Harry saw it from a distance and knew immediately it wasn't right. "It's too small," he said. Upon closer inspection, he added "And there's no badger engraved on it. Still, that's one less museum we might have to check out." Hermione looked a bit disheartened at this news, and Harry had the sense she had enjoyed being out somewhere that wasn't a supermarket or the library. "Do you think we should spend the rest of the day here?" Harry suggested. "Scarborough, I mean. Get away from the house a bit." Hermione nearly hugged him, but instead settled for jumping up and down a bit.

"Oh, Harry, yes please!" Her eyes were dancing. "Let's finish looking round here first, they've got a great bit about ancient writing instruments round the corner, then, seeing as we're this close, I'd really like to go up to Whitby and take a look round the Abbey." At their non-plussed expressions, she added "It's said that Dracula arrived in Whitby when he came here from Transylvania, and his tombstone is supposed to be in the church grounds just outside the Abbey." Hermione talked for a very long time, often interrupting herself to tell Ron and Harry some uninspiring fact about whatever artefact they were observing (Ron and Harry rolled their eyes, and exchanged exasperated glances). Before long, she had their whole day planed out, right down to what they could talk about over dinner, which would be macaroni cheese.


	5. Chapter 5 Insubstantiality

**Chapter 5 – Insubstantiality**

September passed surprisingly quickly. Before they knew it, the three occupants of 57, Graven Grove had taken to lighting the fire every evening to combat the rapidly cooling weather. Tonks had managed two visits (she'd been very surprised to find Ron and Hermione there, too), though had not stayed longer than half an hour. Over tea, she told Harry anything new she'd learned at the Ministry, and brought him news of Lupin, the Weasleys, and lots of other information that would never make it into the _Daily Prophet_. Lupin himself had not managed to make it back to his house again, but had sent a couple of messages to Harry, reminding him that help was available should he need it. Both Lupin and Tonks were under strict instructions from Harry not to give away his whereabouts, or that they'd seen him, Ron or Hermione since the last Order meeting. The next such meeting was to be held mid-October, still a fortnight away. When Harry considered how little progress they had made since the last meeting, he felt a new incentive to get things done. Ron and Hermione were still spending most days at the library, finding hundreds of references to gold goblets discovered at digs within the past fifty years, none of which they had yet gone to investigate, but for all of which Harry kept records sealed in the top drawer of the desk (now otherwise filled with Hermione's belongings).

The sallow roots for the potion had by now fermented satisfactorily, so Harry had begun adding red poppy seeds at midnight for the past few days, as per the instructions. One dreary Monday morning, Harry was in the house on his own. He'd begun extracting the dark juice from purple berries of the Deadly Nightshade into a ceramic bowl when Ron and Hermione returned, looking a little damp and bedraggled from the light rain.

"Library closed early today," Ron said, slouching onto one of the kitchen stools, "exhibition or something. What are you doing then?"

"I'm preparing ingredients for the potion," Harry replied. The potion, which had been kept in a mouldy kitchen cupboard, simmering above blue flames conjured by Hermione, was now on the hob as Harry prepared the berries on the highly scratched kitchen surface. Contained within the cauldron was a thick, white-ish liquid with a faint green tinge and lots of small bubbles. It smelled disgusting, like rotten pear mixed with old socks.

"What _is_ it, Harry?" Hermione asked, taking a closer look with her nose pinched. "Is it supposed to look like that?"

"Uh, I think so." Harry paused squashing berries for a moment, ducked under the counter and brought forth a very old, heavy book. Hermione squeaked.

"_Moste Potente Potions_? However did you get a copy?"

"It was difficult, I admit," Harry assured her. "I procured it from Flourish and Blotts just before it closed. I went there as soon as I could after term finished to order it. At first they wouldn't let me have it. Understandable, I suppose, but when I said I'd rather buy it from them than have to go to Borgin and Burke's for a copy they relented and gave me this one, which they'd kept in the back of the shop for decades. I remembered a lot of the potions from when Slughorn showed us this book in class last year. I never thought I'd actually ever want to use any of them, but I have an idea…." Ron and Hermione waited for him to elaborate but Harry remained silently thoughtful, so Ron said,

"Are you going to tell us, or should we just guess?" Harry flicked the pages until he found the one he wanted. Ron peered over his shoulder and read the title aloud. "'_Draught of Air – the potion of insubstantiality'_. I don't understand. Why would you want to make yourself insubstantial?"

Harry sighed. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure it will work, but I've read the theory, and _theoretically_ it will work. You see the potion would normally be used so that your presence would be undetected. So if you wanted to wander into the Ministry of Magic, you could drink this, slip on an invisibility cloak, and even Moody would have trouble knowing you're there. That's not what I want to use it for, of course. I have a theory, that with a few adjustments, it cold also affect solidarity."

"So you could be like a ghost? Walk through walls and stuff?" Ron suggested.

"Not quite. I think it might be possible to make yourself immune, or at least resistant to, magic." Ron gasped and Hermione bit her lower lip. "I'm aiming to produce a potion that will make practically all charms, curses and other attacks pass straight through you as if you were air."

"What about… you know," Hermione shuffled forward timidly, "What about _Avada Kedavra_?" she whispered.

"That," said Harry, "is probably a different matter entirely, but not one I'm too worried about. If Voldemort wants to kill me himself, and I have strong suspicions he does, he probably won't cast Avada Kedavra on me anyway."

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"Priori incantatem," Harry answered simply. He turned back to getting juice from the berries and Hermione began studying the open potions book.

"Have you been adding poppy seeds at midnight?" Harry nodded. "And I can see you're doing the Atropa Belladonna berries now. But we don't even have some of these ingredients yet! How about the unicorn hair? Or Haemocyanin?" Hermione fussed.

"I have the unicorn hair; Hagrid donated it. Tonks brought it over yesterday, and I'm not going to use Haemocyanin. I think a better alternative would be Chameleon blood, which contains Haemocyanin anyway."

"And where are you going to get Chameleon blood?" Hermione asked faintly.

"I don't think I want to tell you just yet." Harry resolutely returned to cutting up his Deadly Nightshade and refused to answer any more questions.

* * *

Ginny was sitting in the front row in Defence against the Dark Arts. She, as did the rest of the school, really enjoyed lessons with Professor Obeah. Moody turned out to be a good teacher, but his lessons were boring. The Ministry-arranged course included thoroughly tedious magic, such as beacon charms and some weaker counter-curses. The most interesting lesson so far was their practical lesson on resisting the Imperius curse, but usually the lessons were non-practical, involving an awful lot of dull information about simple home and personal security, none of which was likely to protect you from a Death Eater.

Luckily, their school curriculum was far more enjoyable. The work was far more taxing than at OWL level, and Ginny was definitely not getting the hang of non-verbal incanting but their new teacher ensured every lesson was fun. Professor Obeah had a strange accent that sounded like a good mix of a great many foreign places. He'd gotten to know each student by chatting to them individually and informally for a few minutes in each lesson over the first month of term, and there was not a student in the school who had a bad word to say about him, even the Slytherins. Professor Obeah liked to call upon volunteers to demonstrate new magic to the class, which was often disastrous, and consequently most amusing. Ginny sat giggling as Colin Creevey was restored to his normal self after he had failed to produce a satisfactory counter-curse to Obeah's particularly nasty skin-scalding hex, one that the class had not encountered before.

"You see, Colin, it does not 'urt anymore, as I said it vould not," the professor reassured Colin as he led him to his seat. "So this lesson we 'ave covered blocks for freezing and melting charms. For homework I vant you to soroughly study the t'eory behind blocking or countering melting curses so next lesson we can all have a go. It vould be a good idea if you review notes from last week, as these too will be of good use. You are dismissed, have a nice lunch break."

Ginny lingered behind the rest of the class so she could speak to Obeah on her own. He was just leaving the classroom himself when Ginny called out to him "Professor! Professor, if you have time, could I ask you something?" Obeah smiled.

"You can always ask a question, Ginny," (he said her name so it sounded like 'Chinny') "but sometimes I may not answer."

"Okay. You see, a few years ago, some friends of mine started a school club. We met every week to practise defensive magic."

"Yes, of this I have 'eard," Obeah replied. "It was called Dumbledore's Army, was it not?"

"Actually, it was the Defence Association," Ginny said, trying to keep the conversation neutral. "It was highly successful, lots of students learned more than in class and it was good fun. I think it would be a good idea to run a similar club this year, because it could really help students to defend themselves, much more successfully than this Ministry drivel. Obviously it wouldn't be run illegally by students in a secret room this time, though. I was wondering, sir, if you'd be willing to run the group yourself?" Obeah considered this for a moment and after a pause, said,

"I will discuss this idea with Headmistress McGonagall" (Ginny noticed how difficult he found it to correctly pronounce her name) "it does not sound like a bad idea. Good day to you, Ginny."

As Ginny headed down to lunch, she felt confident her plan was working nicely. Professor Obeah wasn't aware that McGonagall already knew about her idea to start a new DA, and that it was actually Harry's idea. On the first night back at Hogwarts, Ginny had requested permission to speak to the headmistress. When they met, Ginny had passed over a letter from Harry (which Harry had given to Ron, who had in turn entrusted it to Ginny to pass on to McGonagall), which said

_Professor McGonagall_

_Sorry I could not deliver this to you in person. As you will be aware by now, I shall not be returning to Hogwarts to complete my final year. The work started by Dumbledore is far from finished. I believe it was his wish for me to continue this work should he be unable to do so himself. Therefore, Ron, Hermione and I are working this year not towards our NEWTs, but towards the irrevocable destruction of Voldemort and all who are in allegiance with him. For our mission to be successful, it is imperative that nobody knows of my whereabouts (needless to say, I have quit Privet Drive) or has any clue on what theory I am working. Therefore I must beg you not to ask me anything, and to act as though I am at the school and talk to you regularly. Both Hermione's and Ron's parents believe them to be at Hogwarts this year. If at all possible, I ask that you do all you can to verify this if necessary._

_It is with regret that none of us can carry out the first task given to us by the Order of the Phoenix, but trust me when I tell you our work is regrettably more important. In place of the three of us, we would suggest that Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood are students who are exceptionally able to assist your staff with careful inspection and protection of Hogwarts and its students._

_Finally, I wish you good luck in your first year as head of the school and am sorry that I could not be there to support you. If you need to contact me for any reason, please speak to Ginny Weasley, who will pass the message on. Otherwise I will, of course, be present at Order meetings._

_Yours faithfully, _

_Harry Potter_

When McGonagall had finished reading, Ginny thought she might be about to cry. Instead, she gave a loud sniff and invited Ginny to join her for tea. Ginny thought the room had been far more interesting as Professor Dumbledore's office than it was now it was occupied by Professor McGonagall. In place of the many spindle-legged tables holding a number of clicking, whirring silver instruments, there were heavy-looking drawers and cabinets each draped with a tartan throw. On a small table near the window, a long white-feathered quill was writing continuously of its own accord across a huge stack of fresh parchment. The other noticeable difference was the addition of a new portrait on the wall – that of Professor Dumbledore, who, like all the other portraits of past head teachers, was apparently fast asleep.

Over tea and several small cakes, Ginny told the Headmistress how little she'd seen of both Ron and Harry that summer, and how hard they were working. She also mentioned some of Harry's ideas that he would have brought back to Hogwarts himself, such as closing the Room of Requirement and reinitiating DA meetings supervised by a member of staff. McGonagall supported most of these ideas, and gave her permission for Ginny, Neville and Luna to patrol the school whenever they felt it necessary, as long as they only ever did so together, and having first informed a member of staff.

It was no surprise to Ginny when at breakfast the next morning, she received a note from Professor Obeah, confirming that he would be delighted to oversee the DA club this year, and to let him know when the first meeting was scheduled. She hurriedly passed the news onto Neville and Luna, who were thrilled to be invited to run the club with Ginny.

"I've read up on some spells that we could do," Neville admitted, "mostly they're ones that I found difficult at first so that the younger years can learn them, but I've found some new ones too for the older years."

"That's a good idea," Luna volunteered, though more to herself than to anyone else.

"Now we've got to decide on a time and place and start advertising it, I guess," Ginny said. Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the owls, bringing news of yet more Dementor attacks across the country.

* * *

"Did you see this?" Hermione exclaimed. Harry and Ron were seated at the small kitchen table, dipping toast into their boiled eggs.

"How can we have seen it when you've been reading it ever since it arrived?" Ron asked between mouthfuls. Ignoring him, Hermione summarised the front page.

"Dementors in Torquay, Skegness and Blackpool. Ministry have been rushed off their feet trying to prevent attacks and modifying memories of thousands of Muggles."

"But Muggles can't see Dementors," Harry pointed out.

"Sounds to me like they just fancied a holiday," Ron sniggered at his own joke. Hermione ignored him.

"Don't you see? They're heading to places where there will be lots of people enjoying themselves, busy places where they can feed." Hermione sounded disgusted as well nervous. Harry was thinking – something didn't fit. If Voldemort did have control over the Dementors, surely he would put them to better use than terrorising Muggles on vacation? If they weren't under Voldemort's control, they were certainly causing trouble for the Ministry and preventing them from dedicating more time to locating the Death Eaters… "What is it?" Hermione demanded.

"The Dementors…" Harry tried to organise his thoughts into words. "What if they're a distraction? I mean, if they are working for Voldemort, it seems to me he wouldn't have them aimlessly blundering after Muggles… The Ministry is having to work really hard to sort out all these Dementor problems. What if they're just a ploy? Voldemort wants to stop the Ministry from searching for him and the Death Eaters, so he's sending out Dementors to keep them busy. What do you think?"

"It's possible," Hermione said, "but there are different departments searching for Voldemort than those chasing Death Eaters, so you wouldn't think it would be that much of a distraction."

"That's right," Ron agreed, "clearing up after Dementors is the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. It's the Aurors looking for Death Eaters, isn't it?"

"Even so…" Harry still felt that they were missing something. Hermione watched him pityingly.

"The next Order meeting is soon, Harry. You can bring it up then."

"Yeah, I guess. By the way, I got another message from Ginny in the notebook this morning."

"What did it say?" Ron asked through a mouthful of egg and toast.

"That she, Neville and Luna are going to restart DA this year with their new Defence teacher, Professor Obeah."

"That's great!" Hermione said. "I'm so pleased that the students will be learning as much defensive magic as possible, hopefully it will help to keep everyone safe."

"Yeah," Harry agreed half-heartedly. He was glad that the DA was reinstated, but he hated that he wasn't there to run it. He suddenly didn't feel like finishing his breakfast and pushed his chair back from the table. "I'm going to practise blocking," he said, and headed back out of the dining room.

Taking a break from tedious searching in the library, Ron and Hermione spent the next two weeks practising magic with Harry. Hermione was trying to make Harry learn awfully complicated counter curses whilst Ron worked hard on mastering non-verbal incantations, at which both Harry and Hermione were now sufficiently adept. They were also taking it in turns to stir Harry's mysterious potion, which had to be done at regular intervals everyday. Harry had just finished stirring the potion, now a deep purple colour and smooth like blackcurrant squash, when there was a scratching sound from the bedroom hearth. Harry entered the room in time to see Tonks step out over the grate, brushing soot from her cloak and hair, which were both ankle-length and canary yellow.

"Wotcher Harry," she smiled widely at him and winked.

"Hi, Tonks," Harry said. Hermione peered in with Ron behind her. Each of them had one white eyebrow.

"We were practising human transfiguration in the bathroom mirror," Hermione explained. "We're not getting very far though. " She waved her wand over the two of them and their eyebrows turned back to normal.

"You all ready then?" Tonks asked. She had agreed to escort them out of Graven Grove to meet up with McGonagall. As the three teenagers were supposed to be at Hogwarts, it would be more believable if they arrived at the Order of the Phoenix meeting at the same time as their Headmistress. Tonks and Harry stepped out of the bedroom to join Ron and Hermione the tiny hall. "Fergusson hill. See you there." Tonks said, and disapparated. The others followed suit, and soon the hallway was empty.

Two witches and two wizards reappeared moments later near the brow of a hill. They stood in a clearing amidst tall, thick trunks and lots of bracken. Almost immediately, they were joined by Professor McGonagall. Tonks greeted her briefly, and then vanished again. The headmistress appraised her three former students and raised an eyebrow. "You are keeping out of trouble, I trust?"

"Yes, professor," Harry answered, pleased that McGonagall was not attempting to interrogate them.

"I assume Miss Weasley has made you aware of the current situation at Hogwarts?"

"She's told us about the new teachers, extra lessons, extra security, all that stuff. Anything else we need to know?" Harry asked.

"Just that all three of you arrived in my office three minutes ago. We walked out of the grounds and apparated immediately. We will return here after the meeting and you will be escorted back by Nymphadora Tonks."

The second meeting passed as uneventfully as the first. Fewer people were present – Harry was glad to see Fred, George and Molly Weasley, but the others were too busy to leave work. Harry explained his theory about the Dementor attacks being a distraction for the Ministry. Moody growled that they had thought of that, but, like Hermione, could find little reason to support it. However, they were on the watch for anything suspicious within the Ministry that might have been neglected with all the extra work everyone was doing. Harry remembered the headline '**Controversy at the Ministry**' from the Daily Prophet last month and wished he had read the article.

Betina Briarthorn, the witch who had sat next to Harry at his first meeting, was able to confirm that Healers were being approached by Death Eaters, and that they had to choose between turning to help Voldemort or being tortured until they agreed to it. This news seemed to suck what little hope there was from the room.

The dim silence was broken by Hermione. "I don't understand. Why would Voldemort need healers?" Moody turned to address her.

"We don't fully understand either. We can guess that he wants to prevent the Healers from helping our side so that any serious injuries result in death, whereas his side are kept strong and healthy. On this assumption, it could be that he has something horrible planned that is likely to render many of us in need of a Healer at a time when we would be unlikely to find one. But we are just guessing."

They next discussed a plan to raid a house in Tadcaster, North Yorkshire, where it was rumoured that several different Death Eaters had been seen entering over the past few days. Harry did not volunteer to help – he certainly didn't want to hand himself over to the Death Eaters any time soon. He did intend on meeting with them but not just yet. As this task was assigned to several members of the Order, some of whom weren't even present, the meeting concluded. Molly took the opportunity to squeeze each of Harry, Ron and Hermione nearly breathless before she and the twins exited. Professor McGonagall called them sharply and soon all four of them were back in the clearing on Ferguson Hill.

"I don't suppose any of you are ready to tell me what you're doing?" the headmistress enquired of them. Harry shook his head.

"Sorry, Professor. You will understand when we're finished." He assured her.

"And when will that be, Mr Potter?" Harry was saved from answering by the appearance of Tonks.

"I'm late for a meeting at the Ministry. Come on, let's go." Harry watched her vanish and without a backwards glance at McGonagall, turned on the spot thinking intently of Graven Grove.

Harry collided with Ron on their reappearance in the small upstairs hallway. The sound of china clinking told them Hermione was in the kitchen. Harry and Ron both shuffled in, rubbing their shoulders. "I'm starving," Ron mumbled, as he headed towards the kitchen cupboards. Harry's mind was still buzzing from the Order meeting as he took a seat at the battered table.

"Hermione," he said, "a short while ago there was a headline in the _Prophet_ that said 'Controversy at the Ministry'. What was it about?"

"Oh nothing very interesting," Hermione replied as she brought Harry a glass of pumpkin juice. "Some members of the Ministry have been saying that Scrimgeour is going to be worse than Crouch, ruthlessly locking up anyone and everyone, regardless of any proof."

"Well that's what he's doing," Harry said, nonplussed, "with people like Stan Shunpike."

"Well yes," Hermione said carefully. "It's obviously wrong to lock up people who are innocent, but I understand it from the Minister's point of view, that surely it's better to lock up anyone who you suspect than let possible Death Eaters roam free." Harry strongly disagreed.

"So you think that locking up Stan will help? What about Sirius? And Hagrid?" Harry tried hard to stop himself from shouting but he could hear his voice rising. He took a deep breath before continuing. "They all went to Azkaban for crimes they didn't commit, and the Wizengamot tried to send me there too, remember?"

"I know, Harry," Hermione said. Ron had paused midway through his sandwich and stood watching them wordlessly. "But you've got to try to see it from the Ministry's point of view. What would you do if you were Minister?"

"I'D HAVE LISTENED TO DUMBLEDORE WHEN HE SAID VOLDEMORT WAS BACK TWO YEARS AGO!" Harry shouted. He stood up from the table and stormed out of the living room, slamming the door behind him.


	6. Chapter 6 Spinner's End

**Chapter 6 – Spinner's End**

The house on the corner was dark. The whole street was dark, but the corner house emanated darkness from within. The front door opened slowly, and a man swathed in a cloak black as the night emerged. Severus Snape was doing everything he could not to be seen. He slid silently out of the house, along the path and onto the pavement, where he paused and carefully considered his surroundings, straining his senses for any sign that he was being watched. The street was empty and a biting wind whipped the air. The eerie orange glow from the streetlamps overhead was stifled by a thick mist that had settled three days ago and was refusing to depart. The mist coated the street like a blanket, obscuring the stars and the moon. The only sounds to be heard were the whistling of the wind and the crunch of stone beneath Snape's feet as he strode along the pavement, his cloak billowing behind him like a ship's sail in a storm. He hurried down the road into the cul-de-sac, where trees and houses loomed in a threatening circle around him. Between the two houses at the end of the street was an opening, barely visible that night, which led to a dark, narrow lane. It was in this lane that Snape stopped, checked his surroundings once more, and promptly disappeared.

* * *

Harry awoke with a jolt to see two figures standing over him. Instinctively he reached for his wand, but paused when he heard voices. "Should we wake him up?" came the unmistakable voice of Ron Weasley, his ginger hair very visible even in the dim morning light. 

"Why would you want to wake me up?" Harry asked thickly, as he reached for his glasses and forced himself into consciousness.

"You were having a bad dream or something," Ron informed him. "Thrashing around and everything."

"Really?" Harry allowed a wide yawn to escape him. "I was dreaming about Snape." Harry heard his own voice harden at the mention of the name, but found he was at least able to say it. "A nightmare, I guess. Nothing significant, I assure you." He suddenly became aware of Hermione's presence. He was still annoyed with her from the night before. "What were you doing in here?" he demanded of her. Both Ron and Hermione began to blush furiously. Before either of them could answer, Harry closed his eyes and turned over, muttering, "Actually don't tell me. Don't ever tell me."

An hour later, Harry emerged from his bed and shuffled towards the kitchen, where he could hear Ron and Hermione had started breakfast. They greeted him cheerfully and Harry yawned in return. He took a pear from the bowl of fruit sitting on the dented metal table and bit hungrily into it. "It's a new moon tonight, Harry," Hermione unnecessarily informed him - Harry had been counting down the days since the last new moon.

"I know," Harry said, wiping his chin as pear juice dribbled from between his lips. "Which means we need to go out today, if that's alright." Ron glanced out the window and frowned. The sky was grey and overcast, the bare trees were being whipped pitilessly by raging wind, and raindrops flecked the grimy pane.

"Do you think it will brighten up later?" He asked hopefully.

Unfortunately for Ron, it did not brighten up. The weather was just as foul when Harry decided it was time to leave at around four o'clock in the afternoon. He had been carefully inspecting and adjusting the insubstantiality potion for most of the day, whilst Ron and Hermione continued their practise on human transfiguration. Each of them could now change the colour of their hair at will, but as Hermione said, it wasn't much progress. "Turning your hair black isn't going to fool a Death Eater, Ronald," she'd reminded him, quelling his pride at successfully renouncing the Weasleys' signature red quaff. "I can't believe that if we were at school right now this is what we'd be learning to do!" Hermione fretted. Harry empathised with Hermione's frustration, as he too was having difficulty accomplishing spells, though he was attempting to cast all his magic non-verbally. Pushing his annoyance aside, he called to Ron and Hermione that it was time for them to go. The three of them congregated in the hallway dressed in heavy winter cloaks.

"Hoods up," Harry instructed, "We don't want to be recognised." His friends nodded and lifted their hoods as was required. When Harry was satisfied, he offered an arm to each of them. On the count of three, they apparated together, Harry guiding them to their next destination: Spinner's End.

The three seventeen year-olds appeared on a grassy slope on the bank of a muddy trickle that had once been a stream. It was getting very dark very quickly, and the cold grey drizzle further obscured their view. Led by Harry, they scurriedup the hill, slipping and sliding in the mud, towards a miserablemass of houses along an unkempt and deserted street. Glancing around to check that they weren't being followed, the three of them headed through the maze of cobbled, derelict streetstowards the largest of the houses. They hurried down the front path, which was littered with broken twigs and overgrown brambles, and pushed the front door, which opened easily. Once inside the house, Hermione dried their cloaks with a quick flick of her wand and looked about the squalid room in which they now found themselves.

"It's foul," she ejected. "Who on earth lives here? Or used to live here by the look of it." Her question was addressed to Harry, but he did not answer. He was walking slowly around the room with his hand held up to the bookcases and cabinets lining the walls. "Harry? Is something wrong?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," he replied. "I feel strange here, something I can't explain. Last time, it felt weird, but just cold. This time is feels more like a message…." He trailed off, something he had been doing a lot recently. Hermione looked a little impatient; Ron was shunning the walls with a look of distaste, and it couldn't have been clearer that he didn't want to be there any longer than necessary.

"Harry, can we just get the stuff and go?" he implored, shivering as he spoke.

"I'm missing something," Harry told them. Finally he stopped exploring the walls and turned back to talk to his friends. "I came here once before. I felt something – it's hard to explain. It's like…" he paused, searching for an explanation. "It's like when you go into a bakery but you've got a cold. You can still smell the bread, but when you go back the next time without a cold, you can smell the bakery before you can see it. Except this isn't bread. Last time it felt like a chill, like someone or something telling me I wasn't welcome. This time it feels more like they're trying to throw me out, to stop me from… from finding something. Whatever it is, it's the same as before, I can tell. I'm just more aware of it now."

Harry, at least, seemed satisfied with his own explanation, and continued through to the next room of the house. Ron and Hermione exchanged very puzzled looks before hurrying after him. Harry headed upstairs and to the back of the house, where before he had found a circular room containing, amongst other things, a wide assortment of hard to come by potions ingredients. When they had followed him in, Hermione gasped and then gagged on the putrid smell, whilst Ron went straight to the various vials and jars filling the shelves that lined the walls.

"Blimey, Harry, I can see why you thought of coming here to get the more difficult stuff." He read the labels along the shelves, sometimes uttering sounds of disgust, and sometimes of awe. Harry stood in the centre of the room with his brow furrowed, pondering this new sensation he felt inside the building. Hermione slowly approached him, frowning.

"Harry," she said quietly, but loud enough for Ron to hear, "is this Snape's house?" Ron immediately turned his attention from the shelves to Harry.

"Yeah, it is," Harry admitted, "at least it was. Not sure he's coming back here again. Shame, really, look at all he left behind." Hermione gagged again and turned a shade paler, and Ron thrust his hands into his pockets, as if afraid they might touch something without his consent. Harry simply pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from his breast pocket and read from the list scrawled thereupon. "Chameleon blood, gurdyflux and hollyhock sap, if you can find them." Obediently, Ron returned his attention to the various bottled substances, searching for the elusive ingredients. "Hermione, why don't you see if there are any books here you want to take back with you? I'd check them for curses before touching them though, just to be on the safe side," Harry suggested. Hermione nodded and cautiously approached the numerous bookcases, each of which was now coated with a thick layer of dust and cobwebs.

"Aha!" Ron cried, pointing to a sealed conical flask full of a blue-green shimmering viscous liquid. "Got the chameleon blood. What else did you say?" Harry helped Ron to find the remaining two ingredients. Meanwhile Hermione had selected a few books from the potions room, and returned to the first room to have a look at the books in there. This is where Harry and Ron rejoined her, placing the phials they had appropriated carefully on a dusty coffee table.

"I've taken a couple of books that ought to help us with human transfiguration, and a couple on healing potions," she told them. "He's got quite a library, loads of dark magic." Harry and Ron snorted.

"Well that's a surprise," Ron snickered. Deciding that she had enough books, Hermione made them practically weightless with the same charm she and Ron had used on their suitcases two months ago, and conjured a box in which to place the potion ingredients. She shivered as a breeze swept past their ankles.

"Shall we head back then?" Hermione ventured. Ron agreed fervently, and with Harry's nod, the three of them disapparated back to Lupin's house.

It was a surprise for Harry when he reappeared to find Lupin sitting at the kitchen table, but not as much of a surprise as it was to Lupin to have three people suddenly appear in his dining room. Harry immediately took the seat opposite Lupin while Hermione boiled some water and Ron slumped onto the ugly brown sofa, placing the feather-light books and box full of bottles at his feet. "Harry, how are you?" Lupin initiated the conversation.

"Great, thanks," Harry replied, grinning broadly. "How have you been?" Harry wouldn't normally have asked, except that his father's old friend looked far healthier than the last time Harry had seen him. Lupin smiled faintly as he replied that he was indeed feeling much better.

"I've adjusted to my new living quite well, and Tonks has been providing lots of company in various guises, which has made the past month a lot easier." Hermione brought over four steaming goblets, handed one to each of the wizards and kept one for herself as she took a seat next to Ron. "I invited Tonks over this evening, I wasn't aware that you would have company, too." Lupin said, indicating Ron and Hermione.

"Oh," Harry said, momentarily averting his eyes, "Err, Hermione and Ron have been very useful," he said, "They've been staying here quite a lot, helping me. But Tonks is coming? That's great, we can have a dinner party, or something." Hermione and Ron both agreed that this was a brilliant idea, and Lupin easily conceded.

Lupin took a rest for a couple of hours and left his houseguests in charge of preparing the dinner party. Ron turned the greying wallpaper to a welcoming orange, not dissimilar from the colour of the robes worn by his favourite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons. Ron and Harry argued for several minutes about whether to eat coque au vin or tagliatelli until Hermione astonished them by expanding the room to twice its normal size and transfiguring the tiny metal kitchen table into a proper solid wood dining table. "Why couldn't you have done that weeks ago?" Ron asked despairingly.

"Because it's a complicated charm and it doesn't last more than a few hours. Besides, we don't usually need the extra room. So are we eating tagliatelli then?" Harry gave up fighting for his chicken meal and instead fell to checking the potion and readying the new ingredients to be added at midnight.

Tonks arrived a little late, at a quarter past seven. She curiously peered through the door and was delighted to find Remus, Harry, Hermione and Ron seated around a large dining table laughing merrily. Each of them shouted greetings to her as she emerged, dressed in a smart lime green robe with silvery shoulder-length hair. She'd brought with her a bottle of mead, which they shared between them, repeatedly exercising the refilling charm Harry had used to inebriate Slughorn in his last year at Hogwarts. Hours later, the five of them had consumed a lot of pasta and much more mead. Tonks was delightedly telling them about various antics in which she had recently become involved at the Ministry, such as bewitching the voice in the elevator to talk in foreign languages, and submitting reports on parchment that changes colour as you read it. "Normally we'd get into ever so much trouble, but so long as we are able to reverse the magic, the Ministry is happy of a little light heartedness at the moment, with the exception of Scrimgeour of course." She promptly metamorphasized to a fairly good representation of Scrimgeour and made Ron choke with laughter at her impressions.

Although enjoying himself, Harry was keeping an eye on the time. The chameleon blood had to be added exactly at midnight on a new moon, so tonight was their only chance for another whole month. As the conversation mellowed and Tonks began idealising how it would be when Voldemort was gone for good, Harry took the plates to the kitchen, and surreptitiously collected the brewing potion from under the sink. Concentrating hard on the incantation _mobiliarbus_, Harry pointed his wand at the cauldron, which began to float. He next cast a vanishing charm and slunk unnoticed, followed by the invisible potion, into the bedroom.

Trying not to be distracted by the rumble of conversation in the next room, Harry carefully added the chameleon blood to the potion, drop by drop, stirring slowly as he did so. From here on in, completing the potion was guesswork. According to the book, _Moste Potent Potions, _the Draught of Air was supposed to be bright blue and bubbly. Harry's potion was a silver-grey and fizzing a bit. _The theory is right_, Harry kept repeating to himself. It was the first time he had attempted brewing his own potion and he wished rather than hoped it to be successful. He continued stirring for a further five minutes after the required amount of blood had been added, and the potion gradually ceased fizzing. Harry had begun noting this effect for future reference, when Lupin and Tonks came in.

"See you around, Harry," Tonks said winking as she approached the hearth. Harry became very interested in his notes as Tonks kissed Lupin goodbye before leaving in a surge of green flames. Harry felt Lupin's eyes on him.

"Everything alright, Harry?" he inquired.

"Sure," Harry replied. "Just finishing a potion. Practice, you know? In case it happens that I do need to take exams at the end of the year." He pulled a face at which Lupin offered a smile of condolence before returning to the next room to start clearing up. Harry started to follow him but paused in the doorway – through the sliver of space between the open door and the frame, Harry could see Ron and Hermione cuddled together on the sofa. Sighing gently, he turned back to the bedroom and flopped down onto his bed. He felt tired, not because it was the end of the day, but because he felt like he had spent nearly every moment of his life living someone else's.

Harry lay silently in the dark room, absent-mindedly fidgeting with the locket around his neck, and thought about everything he missed, like letters from Sirius, his conversations with Dumbledore, looking forward to his lessons at school. Even trivial things like drinking Pumpkin juice in the Great Hall and riding his broom, and Quidditch; he really missed Quidditch. And parties in the Gryffindor common room. And his friends, especially Ginny. Hating life as it was, Harry angrily thumped the pillow as he rolled over to face the wall. He tried to remind himself that it could be much worse, and that if it weren't for Ron and Hermione he would be completely on his own. Distressed and miserable, Harry fell into a turbulent slumber.

Harry awoke in the night as Ron was just climbing into bed. Seeing that Harry was awake, Ron said, "Sorry mate, I tried to be quiet." He grinned as he slid under the covers.

"Where's Lupin?" Harry asked.

"He left about an hour ago. Said he couldn't stay but didn't say why. 'Night Harry." Ron's breathing shortly became deep and regular so Harry adjusted his bedding and tried again to get some rest. However, he fell into his familiar dream of the three houses: the large, unfriendly mansion on a hill, the dark, mysterious house in a village, and the tiny shack in the sea. Throughout the dream there were the accompanying feelings of anger and confusion, which just didn't make any sense. It was while he slept that Harry realised he'd been there before, to each house, and not just in his sleep.


	7. Chapter 7 Expostra Dementa

**Chapter 7 – Expostra Dementa**

In the Gryffindor Tower at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a girl with fiery red hair was smiling contentedly as she stared into space. Ginny still was revelling following the previous evening's DA meeting. Nearly every student at the school had attended and even a couple of teachers had come to watch. As Ginny lay in her bed waiting for daylight (she was the only person in her dormitory who had returned to Hogwarts, thus always managed a good night's sleep), she remembered how everyone above fifth year had successfully produced a Patronus, even though a couple of them were rather weak, and all the first years had had a go at banishing the Boggart provided by Obeah. Ginny knew that everyone would be passing his or her Defence against the Dark Arts exams well this year; she had got an Outstanding OWL thanks to Harry's help, and she wanted to do the same for the rest of the students. After all, with Voldemort in full power, what was more important than learning defence?

* * *

Harry got dressed quickly and quietly the next morning. Ron was snoring soundly and Hermione was silent, so Harry assumed they would not be awake for a while. He crept outside the house and gulped down a lungful of fresh morning air. Though it was bitterly cold and every single static object was coated with frost, the sun was trying to shine so everywhere sparkled prettily in the misty morning light. Harry thrust his hands in his pockets and took a walk to clear his head. Since he awoke, he had been thinking about his dream, and what it meant. The mansion on the hill, he was pretty sure, was where Voldemort's father had lived. Though he had never visited the building himself, Harry had seen it before, both in his dreams and in memories in Dumbledore's Pensieve. The second building in the uninviting street was Snape's former residence, from whence they had recently collected the potions ingredients. The final building was the dreadful shack in the ocean where Vernon Dursley had taken his family and Harry to escape the thousands of admissions letters from Hogwarts, and where Harry had first learned he was a wizard. Harry puzzled over why he was having repetitive dreams involving all three of these locations. He still couldn't work out exactly what was happening in the dreams, or why he felt angry in them. He was quite sure now that the dreams weren't being planted by Voldemort, as how would Voldemort have known about the hut in the sea? The only other person in the wizarding world who knew about Harry's stay in the shack was Hagrid, and Harry was sure that Hagrid had never visited the Riddle house. He chewed his lip as he walked briskly against the cold, and was so lost in his thoughts he nearly collided with a man walking the other direction down the street. Harry mumbled an apology to the long grey overcoat now retreating from him, and shivered involuntarily as a particularly chilly breeze swept past him. None the wiser about his dreams, Harry thought it best to return to the warmth of the house before Ron and Hermione woke to find him gone. He turned on his heel and retraced his footsteps back to number fifty-seven.

Over a breakfast of omelettes, Harry told his friends about the dream. Neither of them was able to help with interpretation, though. "Maybe it's just symbolic," Ron offered.

"How do you mean?" Harry asked, interested in any explanation they could offer.

"I dunno. Maybe it's progression, or something." He smirked as he continued, "You're a good wizard and you got a tiny hut, Snape was playing both so got a bigger house, albeit a grotty one, and Voldemort, being evil, got this huge mansion!"

"Yeah, thanks Ron, I'm sure that's exactly it," Harry replied sarcastically.

"Can you tell us anything else about them, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I've only been to Snape's twice, and I was only in the shack for a few hours… I've never even been to the mansion," Harry said. He searched his brain for any information that might be relevant. "We were hiding out when I went to the little house with the Dursleys," he ventured, "And Voldemort was hiding out in his father's house last year… Hey! I wonder if he's still there?" Hermione looked perplexed.

"Harry, you can't go looking for Voldemort yet. If he finds you he'll kill you, and that won't be much use, will it?" Harry couldn't help but laugh a bit.

"Yeah, but you two know the plan, so you'd be able to finish what we started," Harry reassured her. "But seriously, it can't hurt to find out where he is, can it?"

"It would save time when we're ready," Ron agreed, "Not to mention giving us an advantage. I mean, when he's ready to kill Harry, he'll have to find him first."

"He's probably already looking," Hermione reminded him.

"When you've finished discussing my death," Harry interrupted. Hermione and Ron, who both had their mouths open ready to retort, bit their tongues and let Harry continue. "I think we should check out the manor anyway. If he's not there, maybe I can have a look around and see if I can find any clues about my dream."

"I agree that it might help with your dream, but it seems a bit risky. Imagine if you walk straight into Voldemort's hands! Perhaps Ron and I should look first to see if anyone is staying there."

"And what if you two get killed?" Harry demanded.

"We can take care of ourselves. We'll be careful, mate. Better us than you, right?" Harry looked between the two of them, reluctant to agree because by telling them about the dream he might have jeopardised their safety. However, he knew them too well to underestimate their determination. Harry sighed.

"Alright," he conceded, "but I'm going to visit the shack, agreed?" Hermione and Ron both agreed, so each of them helped themselves to more breakfast to prepare them for their adventures.

Only an hour or so later, Harry said goodbye to Ron and Hermione as they set off to visit the derelict Riddle house. When they had left, Harry added a few extra layers for warmth, took up his broom and invisibility cloak, and apparated to an enclosed wood just outside of Little Whinging. Checking that nobody had seen him, Harry then disillusioned himself with a tap of his wand. He mounted his broom, rose high above the trees and sped off towards the ocean.

It was wonderful to Harry to be so free, soaring over the countryside without anybody knowing where he was, or ordering him when to return. Having missed flying, Harry took a chance to loop-the-loop, and practiced a few Quidditch dives just to check he was still able. After over an hour of flying, though, he was getting very cold; his fingers felt as though they were frozen to the broom. It was therefore with great delight that he first glimpsed the inky expanse beyond rolling hills. Now freezing cold, Harry eagerly scoured the waves for some sign of the little hut: having only been there once before, Harry didn't know its exact location. After several minutes searching he had still found nothing. Frustrated, Harry paused his flight and blew onto his hands for warmth. He was sure it had been around here somewhere. Grinding his teeth, Harry turned and began searching the area again. After what felt like another hour, Harry was so cold that he couldn't feel his toes, and all that he had seen was the ocean, stony grey and endless beneath him. Heading back towards the land, Harry closed his eyes to rest them from their fruitless searching. Then he stopped suddenly, and snapped his eyes back open. Harry could feel something. Not a physical something, but more of a tingling sensation somewhere near his stomach. It was familiar; he'd felt it before. Harry tried to focus his mind on when he'd felt like this. Hogwarts, he knew. Every time he entered Hogwarts… and the Burrow… and Snape's house… and when he approached the Ministry of Magic, and St Mungo's. Harry realised with a jolt that it was magic – he could feel the presence of magic! He had always attributed the sensation to his excitement or nervousness at entering any of these places, but now it made sense to him that he could simply sense the marks left by magic. Harry closed his eyes and let the tingling feeling lead him. He headed a little farther out to sea before he stopped again and opened his eyes. Looking down, Harry could see nothing but rolling waves. Curious, he took out his wand and aimed it at the ocean directly below him. _Revelio_ he thought, and watched in amazement as a small stone building flickered momentarily into sight before vanishing as if it had never been there. Harry's heart leapt, then sank like a stone in the same moment. Why was this hut so well protected? What was here that some witch or wizard had tried so hard to hide? Did it have something to do with Harry's dream? Perplexed but determined, Harry took his invisibility cloak from his pocket and threw it over his already disillusioned self. Now completely invisible (even to Moody), Harry dropped gradually lower, until the spray caught his feet and he believed he was next to the shack. He reached his hand out and felt stone wall under his fingertips. Harry needed to know if there was anyone inside. He aimed his wand at the wall and whispered "_interio sonorus_". Immediately, Harry could hear voices as though he was in the room with them.

"I can't see anyone and I'm looking right out the window."

"Maybe they're above us? The alarm wouldn't have gone off if no-one's here."

"Maybe it was a seagull. Or maybe the alarm's faulty. Maybe the charm's wearing off."

"Hush, Draco!"

Harry froze. He'd been so surprised to hear the voice of his school nemesis, Draco Malfoy, that he'd actually gasped out loud earning him a mouthful of salty sea spray, which made him splutter. It seemed that he'd been heard. As the sounds inside the house vanished, Harry dropped yet lower so his toes were getting wet, and pushed himself right up against the wall. Hardly daring to breathe, Harry repeated the incantation non-verbally, and heard Draco reassuring his mother that there was nobody there. Harry stayed to listen for a short while longer, but the Malfoys had ceased conversation. Eventually, Harry took his leave. He flew back to shore and landed on the nearest patch of dry land. He dismounted from his broom, removed his cloak, lifted the disillusionment charm and disappeared.

Still shaken from his discovery, Harry arrived back in Manchester to find Ron and Hermione sitting at the table each clutching a mug of hot chocolate. When Harry appeared, Hermione hiccoughed on her drink and Ron sloshed his all over the table. Hastily clearing it with his wand, he said, "So we know where Voldemort lives." Having recovered herself, Hermione conjured a chair onto which Harry sank, still damp with ocean spray, dropping his broom to the floor.

"Tell me about it," Harry demanded. For once, Hermione let Ron explain.

"It was horrible," he began. "At first, we couldn't tell if there was anyone there or not. There was a shed at the end of the garden, so we went in there. Hermione cast this weird charm on her eyes so they were like telescopes, and she could see in the windows properly. She said she could see Wormtail, which we knew wasn't a good sign. We waited there for a bit, formulating our brilliant plan. Hermione conjured a bird, a raven, and I did that dopple-vision charm that was on our OWL paper, remember? Anyway, we sent the bird off round the house so we could see in every window. Well everything the bird saw, I saw, and I'm telling you I saw Voldemort and at least five Death Eaters in there, including Snape." Harry was horrified, but hardly surprised.

"So he's not bothering to hide himself then."

"Not really, no," Ron agreed. "But who'd go there anyway, if they knew what they'd find?"

"You did," Harry pointed out. Before Ron could reply, Hermione started speaking.

"So what did you find, Harry? A house full of Death Eaters?"

"No," Harry replied, "just one Death Eater." Hermione spluttered again and Ron looked incredulous. "Do you have a beacon or something? Voldemort supporters, this way, Harry Potter's over here!" Ron mocked him.

"I told you, trouble just follows me. And it was Draco Malfoy I found." His friends fell silent. "Yeah, I know," Harry said. "That hut's a bit different to the home he's used to, I reckon." Ron was making goldfish-like movements with his mouth.

"Did he see you?" Hermione asked.

"I don't think so. He's there with his mother. Apparently I set off some sort of intruder alarm so they knew someone was there, but I was disillusioned _and_ wearing my cloak, _and_ out of eyesight."

"His mother's there too? Harry, you could have finished them off!"

"Ron, don't be ridiculous. Harry doesn't want to kill anyone, do you Harry?" Harry hesitated awkwardly before opening his mouth to answer. Sensing dangerous territory, Ron hastily steered the conversation to question why the Malfoys were hiding out in the ocean.

"They must be hiding from Voldemort," Harry sounded confident. "It said in the prophet that Voldemort said he had no use for the Malfoy family anymore before he killed Lucius. I'd bet anything that Lucius messed up so many times, then Draco didn't manage to kill Dumbledore, so that they're more trouble than they're worth and better off out of the way."

"You'd have thought that Voldemort would be able to find them though," Ron said reasonably. "Locate their Dark Mark or something."

"This place wasn't easy to find," Harry told him. "I couldn't find it for ages. It's only because I knew where to look, and then I could feel the magic there, that I…" but what Harry did, he didn't manage to say as Hermione stood and started shrieking at him.

"You could feel the magic there? What do you mean you could feel the magic? Have you any idea what this means? Harry!" Harry had started backing away as Hermione was like a tempest coming towards him.

"Hermione! It's a good thing!" he ventured, as Ron held Hermione back.

"Harry, hardly any witches or wizards can do that! Why didn't you tell us before?" Hermione's voice was still about an octave higher than usual and more than twice its normal volume.

"Hermione, calm down," Ron said soothingly, as he forced her back into her chair. Then he turned to Harry. "So you can tell where magic is? You can tell if someone's cast a spell?"

"I don't know about the spell thing," Harry said, "but at Hogwarts and your house, I can tell something's different. When I was looking for the hut, I couldn't see it, but I could feel where it was because of the charms cast on it, I guess."

"That's really rare, mate. Even really powerful wizards have trouble with that."

"Dumbledore didn't," Harry remembered, "when we were searching for the first Horcrux, he found his way into the cave by feeling the walls for traces of magic." Ron looked impressed, Hermione looked aghast.

"Harry, about the Horcruxes…" she said, now much quieter. Ron and Harry stood closer to listen to her. "When we were at Snape's, I found a book that I think could help us." Harry watched, puzzled, as Hermione walked to the sofa. She reached behind it and pulled out a heavy book that Harry recognised because once again it was pulsing crimson in time with his breathing.

"You brought that here?" Harry wrinkled his nose. Hermione brought the book back to the table and opened it near the back. Cautiously, she turned the pages. When she reached the correct page, the book moaned in a manner that suggested it had just survived painful torture.

"Shut up," Hermione told the book. "Aha! This is it." She read clearly from the book. "_The Horcrux, most wicked creation of wizardkind, contains the half of the soul scarified by said wizard who has committed murder. A Horcrux can be any object, and remains unchanged when the soul is concealed within. The only way to detect a Horcrux is with the incantation _expostra dementa_. If the said object is a true Horcrux, this incantation will force the soul segment to reveal itself. The soul can then be destroyed with either the salvation charm or the eradication curse._"

"The what or the what?" Ron asked.

"Salvation charm or eradication curse," Hermione repeated. "I've never heard of either of them, and the book doesn't explain them at all."

"Salvation or eradication? I know which one we'll use," Harry said, and Ron smirked appreciatively. "Let's try it," Harry said. He took out the green teapot from the kitchen cupboard, placed it one the side and transfigured it back into Slytherin's locket. He pointed he wand at the gold jewellery, and said in a clear, steady voice, "_Expostra Dementa!_" As they watched, a silvery streak emerged vertically from the locket, curling like solid smoke into the air, where it hovered for only a moment before rushing suddenly back into the locket. Harry held his breath but nothing else happened; the locket remained unremarkable.

"Wow," Ron whispered, "So that was part of his soul."

"So now we have to find out how to destroy it, then when we've found the others, we can destroy them, too. Ron, I want you back searching for traces of that Hufflepuff goblet. Hermione, keep reading that book for anything else that might be helpful. We need to find out what those spells are… and I know just the person to ask."


	8. Chapter 8 The Prophecy

**Chapter 8 – The Prophecy**

It was with mixed feelings of excitement and trepidation that Harry set off towards Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It had been half a year since he left, and Harry felt as though he'd matured tremendously in that time. Now he was performing all magic non-verbally, creating his own potions, and learning new spells that were far more advanced than even NEWT level, let alone having rather adult conversations with his friends and no longer feeling the urge to liven up the day with a practical joke.

Harry had communicated with Professor McGonagall, via Ginny and the notebooks, to arrange a meeting with Professor Slughorn. It was decided that Hogsmeade was probably too dangerous a place for Harry to be spotted, particularly if the wizarding world thought he was at school. Instead, Harry would be travelling by Floo; Minerva McGonagall had connected the fireplace in her old office to the Floo network, as she had done on previous occasions for Harry's benefit. Preferring not to reveal his current residence, Harry arranged to travel once again from the fireplace at the house belonging to Mrs Figg, a fellow member of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry apparated into her cat hair covered living room at exactly 10 o'clock in the morning, as arranged. She was waiting for Harry and offered him a cup of tea on arrival. Harry drank the hot tea quickly and ate a couple of slightly stale chocolate biscuits. He was deep in thought about how he would persuade Slughorn to tell him the eradication curse, and jumped when Mrs Figg started to talk to him. "So are you having any luck?" she asked.

"Excuse me?" Harry said after recovering from choking on dry biscuit. Mrs Figg smiled gently.

"Well I can see you've not been at that school this year. You haven't done your NEWTs though, have you? So where have you been?"

"Oh," Harry was a bit taken aback. "Er, I've been working on a project." He said in non-committal tone.

"I see," Mrs Figg replied, but Harry didn't understand how she could see, based on the little information he had offered. "You know, Harry, the Order is there to help should you need it."

"Yeah, I'll bear that in mind. I'd better be off now. Thanks for the tea," Harry said, and stepped promptly towards the fire. Seconds later he was whizzing at high speeds through the Floo network, and landed with an audible thump in the grate. He looked up to see the familiar face of his previous deputy head teacher set in an uncharacteristically friendly expression.

"Good to see you, Harry," she said, and sounded sincere. Harry returned her greeting and thanked her for arranging the meeting. "Professor Sprout has given permission for her office to be used as a private meeting place for you and Professor Slughorn, who should be along shortly. I have added extra security to the room, so rest assured that you will be neither interrupted nor overheard. If you wish to return directly after your discussion, you may do so." Harry thanked her for her continued support, and then sat alone waiting for Slughorn. The spacious office which had belonged to Professor McGonagall until recently was now barely recognisable under the vast number of shrubs that now covered every surface. Harry passed time by admiring the vibrant flowers, being very careful not to get too close – he remembered vividly the many venomous plants he had encountered in his herbology lessons. As Harry inspected a fanged foxglove, the door opened and Professor Slughorn waddled in, looking as though he would rather be anywhere else in the world.

"Good morning Professor," Harry welcomed Slughorn and extended his hand, which Slughorn took reluctantly.

"Good morning Mr Potter. I'd prefer to make this a short meeting, if you don't mind. I've got rather a lot of work to do." Slughorn lowered his rotund body into a chair at the desk, on which a plate of cucumber sandwiches had appeared. Harry seated himself opposite Slughorn.

"I have no intention of spending long here, sir," Harry assured him, "it depends on how keen you are to help me." At this Slughorn shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Harry ignored him. "The reason I requested a meeting with you is that I've encountered some difficulties with my magic, and wondered if you'd be willing to assist me."

"Well, I'd like to help, of course. What is it that's troubling you?" Horace Slughorn's tone was calm and friendly, but he was now starting to sweat a little. Harry thought he knew why his former potions teacher was so uncomfortable – Slughorn had been the person who'd told the teenage Voldemort about Horcruxes, and in doing so had ensured Voldemort's survival all these years. Seeing as Harry was on a mission to destroy Voldemort, it was obvious why Slughorn was a bit nervous. Harry, however, was of the opinion that Voldemort would have found out sooner or later anyway, and the damage that Slughorn had caused might be useful leverage. Harry looked Slughorn directly in the eye, with what he hoped was a penetrating stare. "A curse. I believe it is called the eradication curse. I can't find any explanation of it."

"The eradication curse?" Slughorn repeated. "It's not common magic, Harry. It used to be used as a killing curse a long time ago, before Avada Kedavra came about. Not very effective though, as the victim had to be near death to start with, or the curse would have no effect. How did you come across it?"

"A book called '_Managing the Macabre_', do you know it?"

"I've heard of it. Lot of Dark magic, isn't it?" Harry nodded. "What were you searching for?" Slughorn asked.

"Just the eradication curse," Harry lied, "but I could only find a reference to it. Without the use of the school library and all the shops closed in Diagon Alley I haven't been able to find anything at all," said Harry.

"Well it's not common, as I said. Also dangerous, so I doubt you'd find it in the school library anyway. Harry, you know I'd like to tell you, but I'm sure you understand how reluctant I am to divulge my knowledge of Dark magic to unqualified wizards." Now Slughorn was embarrassed as well as uncomfortable, and kept glancing longingly at the door. "Perhaps you could tell me why you need to know?" At this point, Harry reached into his pocket and removed the heavy gold locket he'd brought with him. He placed it on the desk between Slughorn and himself. Slughorn examined the necklace until his eyes widened. "Merlin's beard," he whispered, "Salazar Slytherin's."

"Amazing, isn't it?" Slughorn studied Harry curiously. "Look what else I found." Harry aimed his wand at the locket and murmured the incantation '_expostra dementa_'. Again, the silvery substance swirled forth from the jewellery before subsiding.

"Merlin's beard," Slughorn said again, his eyes now positively wide with fear.

"What's the matter, professor? Haven't you ever seen a Horcrux before?" Harry tried not to enjoy himself too much. "This is why I need to know the eradication curse. It's the only way to destroy the Horcruxes and kill Voldemort." Slughorn shuddered at the name and hung his head.

"I did this," he said. "It's all my fault, isn't it?"

"No," Harry said firmly, "it isn't all your fault. Whatever you may have done to help Voldemort, you can undo by helping me to get rid of him. Will you do that?" Slughorn sighed. He looked at Harry, his eyes full of remorse. When he spoke, it was slowly and heavily.

"The incantation is _noyu detru_. It is an incredibly difficult curse to work and requires great strength yet control of emotions. I don't expect an inexperienced wizard such as yourself to be able to do it." Harry held his wand securely and forced the segment of soul to emerge once more. Quickly, before the silver wisp had time to disappear, he incanted '_noyu detru_' with all the controlled hatred and determination he could muster. The locket glowed electric blue for just a moment, preventing the soul from returning to it. Within a split second, the wisp had ignited from the blue glow, and burned brilliantly until there was nothing left to burn. The locket returned to its dull metallic yellow and the room became completely silent.

"Thank you," was all Harry said before pocketing Slytherin's heirloom and stepping back into the hearth.

December brought lots of powder soft snow. Harry gazed longingly out of the window imagining a long snowball fight with Ron whilst Hermione droned on about a new block she had come across. "Unlike all conventional blocks, this one will withhold physical matter as well as magical."

"It's not like the Death Eaters are going to be throwing chairs at us," Ron complained.

"Probably not, no, but I'm sure it's worth learning because it's something they wont expect."

"Could we cast it around a room rather than ourselves?" Ron asked thoughtfully.

"I don't think so," Hermione relied, "I don't think it's strong enough. There are barrier spells we could learn if you think that would help, too."

"Well the Death Eaters at the school had that barrier spell, didn't they? It stopped us getting up the steps in the astronomy tower. Is there something like that we could use?" Hermione glanced at Harry warily before she answered.

"I don't know. Harry said you had to have a Dark Mark to get through that barrier. I'm not sure we'd be able to do anything like that." She glanced again at Harry, who decided it was perhaps time to join the conversation.

"If we can't get a barrier up like that, maybe we can find away of getting rid of theirs," he said. "If the Order had known how to get through it, you could haveHermione brought the

… I mean, we would have… he might not have died." Hermione put her head to one side, and said a little patronisingly,

"Harry, we'll look into it."

"Better yet," Ron said, "we'll get the Order to look into it. There's a meeting tonight, isn't there?" Harry and Hermione nodded that there was. "What time are we meeting McGonagall?"

It was now customary for the three of them to meet up with Professor McGonagall before each meeting, and she would accompany them to London to give the impression that they had all travelled together from Hogwarts. At one minute to seven, Harry, Ron and Hermione stood freezing in the winter night air at the previously arranged meeting place: the entrance to a nature reserve in Herefordshire. They huddled together closely, stamping their feet for warmth. A faint pop close by drew their attention to a spot just feet away, where McGonagall was now standing. Even in the dark they could tell she wasn't happy. "I've got some bad news, I'm afraid," she said in place of a greeting. "Due to a few unfortunate circumstances, someone has learned that you are not in school. This person happens to be the brother of Friedrich Hoffle, a prominent _Daily Prophet_ reporter. I think your cover may be blown." Ron let out a low whistle. "I thought you'd better know before you read it tomorrow, in case you need to make any arrangements."

"Yeah," Ron said, "like for my funeral when Mum finds out!" McGonagall pursed her lips.

"Perhaps it would be wise to discuss the situation with your mother before she finds out from someone else, Mr Weasley." Ron grimaced. "Let's go, shall we?" The four of them apparated.

Funnily enough, it was Mrs Weasley who answered the door at Grimmauld Place. She greeted Minerva with a smile, before pulling each of Ron, Harry and Hermione in turn into a tight hug. "There's not a day I don't worry about you being away from home!" she wailed. "And I miss Ginny terribly but I know that you're keeping an eye on her!" Ron went rigid.

"Mum, there's something I've got to talk to you about," Ron said, leading his mother away by the elbow. Harry, who had no desire to watch while Mrs Weasley attempted to murder her son, had started to follow McGonagall towards the meeting room, but stopped when Hermione pulled his cloak from behind. She motioned with her eyes that they should follow Ron. Although it was against his instincts, Harry knew that Hermione could read social situations immeasurably better than he could, so he followed her to find Ron and Mrs Weasley in the drawing room, which was now quite as filthy as they found it eighteen months ago. Mrs Weasley looked up as Harry and Hermione shuffled through the doorway, but did not say anything, as it was obvious to her that Ron was trying to tell her something important.

"The thing is," Ron began, a touch of nervousness slinking unwarranted into his otherwise steady voice, "I've been working very hard this year, much harder than I ever have before. I've spent nearly every day in the library, and when I haven't been searching for information, I've been practising spells, learning new potions, stuff like that. Hermione, Harry and I work really well together, and we've been encouraging each other and helping each other through." The nervous edge had now gone from Ron's voice, and it struck Harry for the first time how mature Ron had become in the short space of time in which they had been living in hiding. "We've been doing all this with very little support and it's bloody amazing what we've accomplished. The thing is, Mum, I haven't been back to Hogwarts this year. Neither have Harry or Hermione." As Ron finished, Mrs Weasley cast a swift glance around the three of them before turning very white and ducking suddenly as her knees gave way. With only the slightest flick of her wand, Hermione had conjured a soft chair in less than a second, and Mrs Weasley collapsed into it.

"Not been back to Hogwarts?" she breathed. Even as she looked about to faint, Molly Weasley's eyes flashed dangerously. Her voice and senses seemed to return to her rather rapidly. "What do you mean, you've not been back to Hogwarts?" Her shrill voice was bound to disturb the portrait of Mrs Black, still irremovably fixed in the hall, Harry thought, and he shut the door as quickly as he could. When he looked back into the room, Molly was on her feet again, glaring at Ron even though he towered above her, Hermione at his side. In the momentary silence, Harry thought it best to speak.

"It's been crucial that nobody knows our whereabouts," he said gently. The others turned to him. "Before Dumbledore died," Harry said, slowly moving towards Mrs Weasley, "he told me some important information about Voldemort which he made me swear never to tell anyone except for Ron and Hermione. It's this exclusive information that's going to lead to Voldemort's destruction, but it must be kept secret; if he finds out, he'll be able to stop it." Harry was now standing as close to Mrs Weasley as Ron had been. Hermione drew their attention by continuing the explanation.

"The Death Eaters are looking for Harry. To return to Hogwarts would have meant them knowing exactly where he was. Now, there are only five people on the planet, including ourselves, who know. Our invisibility is our sanctuary." Molly sank back into the chair, apparently unable to speak. Ron knelt down next to her.

"Mum, we're safe, we promise. We've been in contact with Ginny, who _is_ at Hogwarts, and she's safe too. We'd have told you sooner, but you had to understand that we know what we're doing." Mrs Weasley looked directly at Ron for several seconds. When she spoke, her voice was softer than before but very shaky.

"You're sure you know what you're doing?" Ron nodded. "And you will come to me if you need any help?"

"Of course," Ron replied.

"Then I'm very proud of all of you." Before Harry knew it, he was in the middle of a very soggy four-person hug. He remained there, suffocating just a little, until Moody was audibly approaching the door, his wooden leg clumping rhythmically.

"Molly, are you in there?" he growled, " Meeting's about to start." Ron steered his mother into the dining room and sat her down next to Bill, who gave Ron a questioning look, which Ron answered with a short shake of his head. Hermione seated herself opposite, and Harry made to follow but a growling near his ear said "No, Potter, you're coming up here with me." Harry followed Alastor Moody to the other end of the table. Moody took his usual seat at the head, and indicated that Harry take the vacant chair to his right. Harry sat down as all eyes turned to Moody, who cleared his throat, his magical eye roaming all around the room.

"It's good to see so many of you here," he opened. Harry glanced down the table to realise that there were twice as many people as in previous meetings – he'd guess about forty. "Firstly," Moody continued in his growl of a voice, "I'd like to update everyone on the situation of the disappearing Healers. We've received information that it is likely that You-Know-Who" (he pronounced these syllables with utmost contempt) "is planning a mass attack as we'd theorised, and is seeking to remove all Healers from St Mungo's, to prevent any of us surviving whatever attack he has planned. Unfortunately, we do not know the nature of this attack, but can only assume it's effects will be magical, seeing as we have no evidence of Muggle doctors being confronted. So, as the Ministry is choosing to disregard this attack in favour of 'more important issues based on evidence rather than guesswork', the Order of the Phoenix will be secretly recruiting and training as many new Healers as we can. This operation will be lead by Betina Briarthorn" (the short witch with long hair inclined her head to the table in general) "so should you require any further information, please speak to her personally."

Harry had begun to wonder what it would be like to be trained secretly as a Healer, and jumped so much that he nearly fell off his chair when Moody suddenly barked "Harry Potter!" Harry felt himself become very hot as all eyes in the room sought him. "Harry has been keeping very quiet this year, which is unusual, but he has decided that tonight he's going to share some information with the rest of the Order. Go on Harry, it's all yours." Harry stood, numbly aware that he was still wearing his travelling cloak. He dimly wondered what had provoked the Order into forcing him to talk like this. With so many eyes intently waiting for him to begin speaking, Harry forced these questions from his thoughts, and swallowed, his mind racing to think of something to say.

"Hello," he began. Several of the assembled witches as wizards smiled in reply. From the far end of the table, Tonks nodded encouragingly. "Up until now, many of you thought that I was finishing my education at Hogwarts this year. As the _Daily Prophet _will report tomorrow, this is not true. To fully explain this, I really need to explain events that happened nearly two years ago, when the Ministry were still resolutely denying that Voldemort had returned."

Harry paused to wet his lips, which had become very dry. The room was absolutely silent. Harry could tell that every person in it was hanging on his every word. As daunting as this was, it encouraged him to continue. "Voldemort and his Death Eaters were trying to obtain a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort thought that this prophecy contained clues on how to make him more powerful. More directly, he hoped it would tell him how to destroy me. Unfortunately for him, we managed to destroy the Ministry's record of the prophecy before anybody got chance to hear it." (Harry decided to miss out the part where he'd been lured to the Ministry by Lord Voldemort, which consequently resulted in the battle with the Death Eaters that had killed his Godfather). "Fortunately for us, there was another record of the same prophecy. Professor Dumbledore was able to relay the prophecy to me, which spoke of the birth of the one who had power to vanquish the Dark Lord. The _Daily Prophet_ has been correct in its assumption that the prophecy states I must be the one to destroy Lord Voldemort."

At this revelation, a sort of awed hush travelled around the room, and several witches, including Mrs Weasley, uttered squeaks of horror. Harry tried his best to ignore this and ploughed on with his story, knowing that if he were to pause even for a moment, he might not be able to continue. "As soon I was aware that I am the only person who has the power to complete this huge task, I was determined to find ways to successfully rid us of Voldemort, a wizard who seemed to be immortal. Luckily, Dumbledore had already been researching this with great depth and detail, and felt he could share this information with me. What we discovered, I cannot tell you. It is not a matter of trust, but of necessity. Instead of imploring me to share my knowledge with you, remember that Dumbledore could have told you many times, but did not. He implored me to maintain this secrecy, and I do not intend to disregard his wishes. The information that we have uncovered is sufficient that, in time, we will be able to destroy Voldemort once and for all. However, it is also of such a nature that if he were to discover them, our plans would be useless. None of you need reminding that even members of the Order may not be who they appear to be."

Harry let this statement take effect before concluding. "Nevertheless, there are rumours we can confirm, and facts we can share. I've been working since August with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger" (he indicated them). "We know the whereabouts of Lord Voldemort, and several Death Eaters, including Peter Pettigrew, Severus Snape, and Narcissa and Draco Malfoy." The effect of this information was immediate: everyone seated gasped in unison; Molly Weasley squeaked again, Professor McGonagall audibly said "My Goodness", and Moody lurched forward to regain his control of the meeting. Harry was grateful to return to his seat but remained a central part of the meeting, as people asked how he found the Malfoys, and how did he know about the Riddle house, and his thoughts regarding the Dark Mark barrier, and such like.

The Order decided that for nowthey would closely monitor the Riddle house, being careful not to allow any Death Eater to know that their master's hideout had been discovered. As for the Malfoys, they were not considered to be a danger at the moment, but Moody suggested that Harry should return every now and again to check they were still there.

All in all, Harry was glad when the meeting was over. He saw Hermione approach Betina Briarthorn and smiled at the thought of Hermione training to be a Healer on top of everything else they were doing. He caught Ron's eye and they shared an exasperated look before Molly Weasley swooped down on Harry and steered him away back towards the drawing room. Once inside, she shut the door and graced Harry with that look of hers that clearly implied she thought he needed her love and care.

"Harry, I don't know where to start," she said, and Harry felt himself becoming extremely warm. This was exactly the kind social situation with which he was not comfortable.

"Mrs Weasley," Harry tried to head her off early, before things became awkward, but she was adamant to continue.

"I know it can't be easy for you living as you are," from her expression, Harry could tell she meant living with Ron and Hermione, who were becoming increasingly involved in a relationship that did not involve Harry, "and that the only time you get to see other people is at these Order meetings. I wondered, well, Arthur and I would be honoured if you would spend Christmas with our family." Harry felt his stomach sink below its natural position. He wanted nothing more than to spend Christmas with the Weasleys, but knew that he couldn't set foot inside the Burrow, as a vast proportion of the wizarding world knew its exact location. Already regretting it, Harry said,

"I'm afraid I can't. I would absolutely love to, but I can't." There was a moment of very painful silence that Harry spent staring at his feet until Mrs Weasley spoke again.

"How about here?" Harry looked up, curious. "I understand you can't come to the Burrow, but what if we held Christmas here? It's possibly the most secure building there is, and nobody can enter unless you give them permission, you know that, don't you dear?"

"Hermione told me," Harry said as he nodded, but his mind wasn't on what Hermione had said – he could be spending Christmas with the Weasleys, rather than in hiding, wishing he were somewhere else. Molly was right; Grimmauld Place, though not the most welcoming building, was certainly one of the safest around for Harry. His mind was made up at once. "Yes," Harry said, "let's have Christmas here."


	9. Chapter 9 Flight to Grimmauld Place

**Chapter 9 – Flight to Grimmauld Place**

The next few days were a bit of a blur to Harry. All he could think about was Christmas, and spending it with the Weasleys, particularly Ginny. Not having seen her since Bill and Fleur's wedding over five months ago, Harry missed Ginny terribly, and his stomach gave a pleasant jolt whenever he thought about her. Although Harry, Ron and Hermione were continuing relentlessly to locate the remaining Horcruxes and practice advanced defensive magic (not to mention Harry was trying his hardest to perform Occlumency and Legilimency successfully), Harry found these mundane activities less taxing than usual: his thoughts were permanently on mistletoe and hot mead. Harry was pulled rapidly from his daydream as a spell hit him square in the chest and sent him flying backwards into the wall. As his head collided with the plaster, white stars popped in front of his eyes. Groaning, Harry pulled himself to his feet. "What was that for?" he demanded of Hermione, who had hurried over to help him back up.

"Sorry, Harry, but you weren't really paying attention. A Death Eater won't warn you before they attack, you know. They probably wouldn't stick to a simple blasting curse, either."

"Yeah, okay," Harry mumbled, rubbing the back of his head which was quite sore having hit the kitchen wall. Ron was watching him, evidently holding back a snigger. Harry, who was suddenly very unsympathetic to his friends who had taken to cursing him at all hours of the day, sent a vicious non-verbal convulsion curse at Ron, who blocked it just in time. Far from being upset, Ron was further amused.

"Hey, I can block non-verbal spells!" he exclaimed.

"That's great, Ron," Hermione encouraged him, "but maybe you should work harder on trying to cast them non-verbally." Harry tried not to feel too superior as Ron scowled and stalked out of the room. Hermione turned to Harry. "I know he can do it," she said, "he's just not trying hard enough. Maybe I'll go help him," she said.

"Good luck!" Harry called to her, and braced himself as Hermione turned back to face him at the doorway.

"Now you've mentioned it," she said, confusing Harry utterly, as he wasn't aware that he had mentioned anything, "I thought we could do with a little extra luck. Remember the last fight with the Death Eaters? If we hadn't each had a bit of Felix Felicis that night, we could have come out a lot worse off. I don't think there would be any harm in brewing some of our own."

"It's not a bad idea," Harry agreed, "but doesn't it take six months to brew?"

"Yes, it does," Hermione confirmed. "So you agree, then? We should start it as soon as possible." Harry stammered an inconclusive reply, but as he watched Hermione leave the room to assist Ron, he got the impression that she wasn't really interested in what he thought, and that by tomorrow evening they would have begun brewing the potion.

Harry was correct in his assumptions: when he ambled into the kitchen the following morning, Hermione had set out a cauldron, her silver knife and a set of scales on the work surface. "Morning Harry," she greeted him cheerily. "We only have this cauldron, so I bottled up your insubstantiality potion," she indicated the silver-grey liquid now contained in a large clear glass bottle, "which you really should test out, by the way. Is Ron awake yet? I want to show you both how to harvest the flammable fatwood fungus." Harry eyed her warily. A thought struck him as suddenly as a lightening bolt.

"I know what you're doing," he said.

"What is it I'm doing?" Hermione asked innocently.

"You're trying to cover the NEWT syllabus without Ron or me realising!" Harry exclaimed.

"Harry, I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione said, though pink spots had appeared on her cheeks.

"Of course you don't," Harry humoured her, "and if you suggest we learn memory charms, or remind us about the healing properties of the Mimbulus Mimbletonia, it will be a complete coincidence that these are likely subjects to appear in the exams this year." Harry grinned as Hermione blushed deeper, yet refused to say anything. Harry stretched. "So you don't mind if I go tell Ron, then? That you're preparing us for NEWTs?" Harry began walking back towards the bedroom.

"Alright!" Hermione called in exasperation. "I am trying to cover the syllabus. It can't hurt, can it? If it happens that we're in a suitable position to take our exams, it would be useful to have covered the topics." Harry couldn't deny that it would. "It's all relevant to what we're doing, anyway." Hermione said airily, laying out several ingredients in front of her. "Just don't tell Ron, alright?"

"Okay," Harry said. "I'm going to have a shower before you tell me how to dissect fungus," he told her, and aimed a mild hex over his should for good measure as he left the room.

* * *

Hogwarts was in a state of unrest: students kept leaving to return to what was left of their families, news reached them daily of Dementor attacks, unexplained disappearances and unfortunate deaths, and any laughter inside the castle had begun to sound out of place, and was quickly stifled. All in all, Ginny was looking forward to leaving for the Christmas holidays, especially as Harry had hinted in the notebook that they might be meeting up at some point. Ginny was in the empty Gryffindor common room before breakfast, writing a letter to Fred and George. As Hogsmeade visits had been cancelled, Ginny had had no opportunity to do any Christmas shopping, so was sending a list to her brothers to collect the items for her; she had already stolen their presents from Professor Slughorn's potions cabinet (although Slughorn had actually told Ginny to take anything she needed, she was sure he wasn't counting on her needing Acromantula venom and runespoor eggs). While she wrote her list (Sleek 'n' Soft hair serum for Hermione, the most recent Chudley Canons annual for Ron), Ginny was going over the plans for DA in her head. Tonight's meeting would be the last meeting of the year and to try to keep spirits light, Ginny, Neville and Luna had created a number of festive tasks for each group to do, from teaching the first and second years to transfigure gnomes into miniature Christmas trees, up to brewing of hangover cures for the sixth and seventh years. A faint shuffling infiltrated the common room as Gryffindors began to awake. Ginny hastily signed her letter and stood up to take it to the Owlery. She clambered out of the portrait hole and jumped as she saw someone standing in the corridor waiting for her. The boy was in Hufflepuff and sat in front of Ginny in their defence against the dark arts lessons, but Ginny had never really spoken to him. He seemed relieved to see her, though. "Ginny, hi," he said, a bit nervously. "I saw Hagrid just now and he said to tell you that the gnomes are ready."

"Oh, thanks," she replied. She started to walk past the boy, who's name she now remembered to be Joshua Sutton, then he spoke again.

"Erm, I was on my way up here to talk to you anyway. I… well I was wondering, I know you're probably busy, but I have a free period last thing, and, well, if you have one too, maybe we could, erm, go to the library together or something?" Ginny struggled not to chuckle. She had never been asked out on a date to the library before.

"Sorry, Joshua," she said consolingly, "I'll be preparing for DA in my free period today. And I think you should know that I'm still Harry Potter's girlfriend." Joshua looked crestfallen. "But if you're coming to DA tonight we've got a really good session planned," Ginny offered.

"Yeah, I'll see you then," Joshua said before heading back down the corridor.

Ginny didn't meet anyone else on her way up to the owlery, where she selected a small screech owl to send her letter to Diagon Alley. Then she made her way down to breakfast and sat between Neville Longbottom and Colin Creevey at the Gryffindor table, which was decidedly empty, as was usual these days.

"Morning!" Colin greeted her. Ginny helped herself to a large plate of toast with raspberry jam. "Care of Magical Creatures in classroom eleven this morning?" Ginny nodded in affirmation. Ginny and Colin were two of only four students who had decided to continue with Care of Magical Creatures that year. After her career guidance with Professor McGonagall before her OWLs, Ginny had discovered that big name wand sellers, such as Ollivanders, rarely made all the wands themselves, but often trained and recruited skilled witches and wizards to do the job for them. She couldn't explain why, but the idea of making wands was wonderful to Ginny. In accordance with apprenticeship recommendations, she had continued with care of magical creatures, charms (which, unfortunately meant she had to endure Fleur's teaching twice a week) and potions, and had continued with defence against the darks arts because it was ridiculous not to. Due to McGonagall's strict ban on outside activity, Hagrid held care of magical creatures in a different room of the castle nearly every week, depending on what he was teaching. He sometimes brought Hedwig along to the lessons so Ginny could talk to her, and reassure her that Harry was okay. After breakfast, Ginny said goodbye to Neville and joined Colin for the walk down to classroom eleven. There was no sign of Hedwig this week, or any other creature, for that matter. In fact, the room was just a small dingy classroom, with only about ten old wooden desks in rows facing the front.

"Come on in, Ginny, Colin. Take a seat," Hagrid beamed at them. The Gryffindor students each took a seat at a dusty desk in the front row. The other two students, Mina Waspurn and Eric Clifton, both from Hufflepuff, entered soon afterwards, and looked as puzzled as Ginny felt. When they had sat down, Hagrid began his lesson. "Unfortunately, I've not been able to bring a specimen to this lesson, as the Ministry o' Magic keeps these creatures under strict control, and it would be more'n my job's worth to bring one into the school. So, if you'll talk out your books" (there was a small amount of shuffling as the four students retrieved their copies of '_Magical Creatures for the Enthusiast'_ by Libby Lule) "and turn to page seventy seven." Ginny found page seventy-seven and read the title: _Dryads_. "As you will see," Hagrid continued, "this lesson is on Dryads, enchanting creatures. Can be a bit temperamental though, best t' leave 'em alone if yer can help it. On the other hand, a dryad has immense magical power, even if they don't use it too often. Jus' be sure not to get on the wrong side of 'em. Now, you're books haven' done a very good description of them, so I got this fer yer to look at." Hagrid went to the front desk, upon which sat a small ruby red vase. Hagrid up-ended the vase and poured the contents – a scarlet powder – into his large hand. As the class watched enchanted, Hagrid flung the powder into the air. As it settled, it formed a pink-ish haze, which gradually thickened and colours began emerging, so it was soon as if the students were watching a moving hologram or projection. The image showed a short silent movie of a weeping willow tree blowing gently in the breeze. A wizard comes approached and started to hack branches from the tree. ("He'd be trying to get wood for a wand, I reckon," said Hagrid.) All of a sudden, something sprang from the tree in the vague form of a young woman, though she was still quite leafy in appearance, with willow vines in places of her hair, and gnarled skin like bark. She began clawing and slashing at the man with her twig-like fingers. The unfortunate wizard got away quickly, though he did sustain a few light wounds, and the dryad hopped back into the tree and disappeared among the branches.

"As yeh can see," Hagrid said, "No' very pleasant creatures. Mind you, how would you react if someone started teh wreck your home?" The students exchanged amused glances at Hagrid's failure once again to see dangerous creatures for what they were. The haze faded and the red powder fell to the floor. "They're tied at birth to a particular tree and must protect this tree at any cost. Coz if that tree dies, there'll be no more life for the dryad, neither. O' course, dryads are very magical. Can call nature to 'em and it's rumoured they have telepathic abilities, not to mention a very thorough knowledge of plants and herbs and stuff." Hagrid seemed to sense that the class were losing concentration, so he took a deep breath and continued in a loud booming voice. "So this lesson I want yeh to read the chapter on dryads in your books, and for homework I want yeh to write a revised and improved version, using the clip we just saw and any books you can find in the library, to be handed in your first lesson back. Make a start then."

It certainly wasn't the most exciting care of magical creatures lesson that Ginny had ever had. As she headed up to the library to make a start on the essay, Ginny surreptitiously checked the Marauders' Map to locate all the Slytherins – she had been keeping an eye on them all year, just in case. Everyone seemed to be where they were supposed to be, so Ginny stowed the map safely back in her bag and continued onwards.

* * *

Two wizards and a witch were huddled together in the bedroom of number fifty-seven, Graven Grove. It was snowing heavily outside, but the hearth in the small room roared and crackled with fiery heat. A large pile of papers, all detailing descriptions of various goblets, was spread out on the sofa bed, whilst Harry, Ron and Hermione knelt around it. "These were found too early," Hermione said, removing a couple of papers from the pile, "and this one has a picture, so you can tell it's not right." The discarded papers screwed themselves up into balls and landed in the flames at the command of Hermione's wand. "Any other clues, Harry?" Harry thought hard, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"I don't know all that much about him, to be perfectly honest," Harry said, unhelpfully. "I know he was born in an orphanage in or near Devon somewhere, and he stayed there until Dumbledore invited him to Hogwarts."

"These were found in Devon," Ron said, extracting a few papers by waving his wand over the top of the scattered heap.

"But then the first Horcrux was found in Devon when Regulus went to destroy it. Then there was the ring at the Gaunts' house, and Voldemort is at the Riddle house with Nagini. Dumbledore said that the Horcruxes are likely to be hidden in places that were important to Riddle, I just can't think of where those places would be." Harry absent-mindedly rubbed his scar as he thought.

"What about Godric's Hollow?" Hermione ventured.

"No," Harry said firmly. "Firstly, that didn't go right, so I don't think he'd leave a piece of his soul there. Secondly, when I went to Godric's Hollow, I couldn't feel a trace of magic about the place. It was as if wizards had never been there." He swallowed a lump that had entered his throat without permission. "I think I'd have noticed if there was part of Voldemort's soul lying around." Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on thinking about other places that may be significant to Lord Voldemort. In the ensuing silence, Ron turned to gaze out at the snow falling. Hermione huffed and tutted a lot as she continued to sort through the records of archaeological finds, searching for any clue as to the whereabouts of the goblet that had originally belonged to Helga Hufflepuff.

"Can't you work quietly, Hermione?" Ron asked, still staring out of the window. "Harry's trying to think." Hermione glared at him. "Hey…" Ron said.

"I didn't do anything," Hermione said, irritably.

"I know that," said Ron. "There's someone out there looking right up at me." Harry and Hermione were to their feet in less that a second.

"Muggles aren't supposed to be able to see this place." Hermione unnecessarily reminded them.

"I think we can assume he isn't a Muggle then," Harry said. The man on the street below was the same man in the long grey overcoat that had passed Harry in the street several weeks ago. "What are you waiting for?" Harry yelled. "Grimmauld Place, now!" In about five seconds, Hermione had summoned the trunks from under Ron's bed and packed all of their clothes; Harry had collected together all the papers on the bed, plus those he kept in the desk, and the notebook from on top of the wardrobe, and forced them into his pocket; Ron had run into the next room and magically shrank all Hermione's books, both the potions and some food to fit into the palm of his hand. He thrust them into his pocket as he ran back into the bedroom, where Harry and Hermione were standing holding a trunk each, Harry with his broom in his other hand. "Ready?" Harry asked. With a little awkwardness in the small room, each of them turned on the spot and vanished into thin air.

Harry arrived in the dining room of Grimmauld Place with an audible _bang_. He dropped the trunk and tried to regain both his balance and his breath. It took his a couple of seconds to realise that Ron and Hermione were not with him. _Of course_, Harry thought, _we probably each chose to apparate into different rooms._ However, as he set off to search the house, Harry heard a dull thumping noise. He followed it into the hall, and realised it was coming from the front door.

"It's us, let us in!" Hermione was shouting through the door. Harry was about to open the door, when for some unknown reason, the Ministry's leaflet on domestic safety swam into his mind.

"What is the name of Hagrid's three-headed dog?" Harry shouted back to her ("Has he gone mad?" Ron muttered).

Hermione caught on quickly and shouted "Fluffy!" back through the door. Harry turned the doorknob and pulled aside the heavy oak to reveal his two friends standing shivering out in the snow. "Good thinking, Harry," Hermione said as she passed him.

"In your own time," Ron grumbled.

Hermione set about making hot chocolate for the three of them whilst Ron and Harry busied themselves finding new homes for their few belongings. "At least we know now that nobody can apparate into here… except for me, of course," Harry said. "And Kreacher, I presume. Which reminds me…" Harry lowered his voice to a whisper so that Hermione would not overhear them. "I've decided to test my insubstantiality potion on Kreacher, but don't tell Hermione."

"She'd go nuts," Ron agreed.

"I mean, it's got to be tested on someone, and what if the effects never wear off?"

"Exactly." Ron said, "Excellent idea."

"On the other hand, I don't want him to know we're staying here," Harry said, "so he'll have to go straight back to Hogwarts when we're finished with him. Then there's that picture of Phineus Nigellus," Harry said disapprovingly, "which will have to be either removed or concealed, because I don't want him knowing where we are, either."

Ron grunted as he unceremoniously dumped a pile of books into a large wooden chest – they could not leave anything conspicuous lying around because the rest of the Weasley family, not to mention members of the Order of the Phoenix, would be arriving next week, and would notice if the house looked lived-in. Ron sighed as he closed the lid over the chest. "So when should we do our Christmas shopping, then?"


	10. Chapter 10 Friends and Foe

**Chapter 10 – Friends and Foe**

The day before Christmas, Harry was sitting in the Leaky Cauldron, heavily disguised. Hermione had finally consented to them leaving the house to go Christmas shopping, providing that they could successfully transfigure themselves so that they would be unrecognisable even to each other. Hence, Harry was sporting a spiky blonde hairstyle and had developed a rather bulbous nose. His rather conspicuous glasses were safely hidden in his pocket. Harry resisted the urge to put them on as his head was now pounding softly in rebellion to his fuzzy vision. Ron, accompanied by Hermione, was buying Harry's present as Harry sat drinking Butterbeer, just as Ron had done twenty minutes earlier when Harry was shopping for Ron's present. Soon they would all meet up again, then deposit Hermione at Madam Malkin's so she could buy new robes whilst the boys went to buy their gifts for her. It all seemed very complicated to Harry, even more so to Ron, who usually just bought all of his presents from Honeydukes in one outing. _Still_, Harry thought as he drained the dregs of his drink, _at least I'm outside_.

"Harry," whispered a voice behind his left ear. Harry turned and squinted at a witch with an attractive black bob who had very pointy nose and eyebrows, and a wizard with olive-coloured skin and a smart black haircut very reminiscent of the late Bartemius Crouch senior. On any other day, Harry certainly would not have guessed that these two people were infact Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.

"Hi," Harry greeted them. "Fancy seeing you here." They left the pub in high spirits, humming Christmas carols as they went.

Harry managed to find present fairly easily: he'd got Ron a new wizards chess set, as his old one was now very battered, and thought Hermione might appreciate some comfort, so had bought her '_the witch's pamper hamper_' from a shop he'd never been into before, called 'Magic Moments'. He'd heard Ginny and Hermione talking about it together, so dragged Ron inside for a look. Ron was hesitant at first, seeing lots of fluffy and glittery articles in the window, until Harry reminded them that there wasn't the slightest chance they would be recognised.

The shop was full of things with sparkles, things with scents, and lots of very lacy lingerie. Under the pretence that they were buying gifts for their girlfriends (which wasn't really that much of a lie), Harry and Ron had a good long look round the shop before they bought their presents for Hermione; Ron selected an attractive antique necklace set with opals, which had been marked down to ten galleons. The only present Harry found difficult to buy was his gift to Ginny. He wasn't really sure what was going on between them as he had effectively ended their relationship at Hogwarts last year. He didn't know whether to buy a present for his friend, his girlfriend, or his friend's little sister. Knowing that Ron would be no use whatsoever on the subject, Harry asked Hermione about it when they met up outside Madam Malkin's.

"Honestly, Harry," she sighed, "what are you asking me for?" Harry explained his predicament. Ron produced an interesting expression of mingled amusement and disgust, whereas Hermione sighed again, exasperated. "Just get something you think she'll like." Harry was at a complete loss. The only thing he could think of was a broomstick, and he obviously couldn't buy her one of those. He'd almost settled on a pair of seeker gloves until he remembered that Quidditch was banned at Hogwarts until further notice. Finally, he purchased a small, plain gold locket on a fine gold chain. There was space on the back to engrave initials or a short personal message. After little deliberation, Harry settled for a lightening bolt.

It had begun to snow heavily again. Harry, Ron and Hermione took momentary shelter in the post office so that Hermione could send a parcel to her parents. When she had finished, Hermione suggested that they should go back and call it a day. "I've just got one thing left to buy," Ron pointed out. "Let's just pop into Knockturn Alley so I can get something for Fred and George, then we can go back." Hermione relented and the three of them set off against the wind to Knockturn Alley, where there was an even bigger crowd than in Diagon Alley.

"More shops are still open down here," Harry observed. "Maybe people are having to think of alternative Christmas gifts this year."

"Or the Dark artefacts trade is roaring with the absence of Ministry interference," Hermione muttered. They pushed their way through hooded figures down the narrow walkway to Scandal and Sykes, the shop next to Borgin and Burkes. Just as they approached the door, Harry's scar prickled excitedly and he felt a chilly tingling down his spine. Instinctively, he looked around, and froze in horror. Without a word he grabbed an arm of each of his companions, and transported them immediately back to the drawing room in Grimmauld Place.

"Hey!" Ron said, incensed. "I hadn't finished!"

"What was that all about?" Hermione asked. "Harry, are you okay?"

Harry's face was ashen as he replied, "Snape. I saw Snape." Hermione and Ron exchanged the look that Harry knew meant _he's not making any sense – he thinks everyone is a Death Eater_. "It was Snape." Harry said again, more aggressively. "My scar prickled and I felt all shivery, so I took a look around and Snape was standing at the counter in Borgin and Burkes. He had his hood up, but he turned and looked directly at me when I looked at him." Hermione and Ron still looked dubious. "Don't you think I'd know if it wasn't him?" Harry shouted.

"It's okay, Harry, we believe you." Hermione said. Harry wasn't sure that they did, but he didn't really mind. Too many questions had forced their way into his head. What was Snape doing out and about when he was a known murderer? Why was he in Borgin and Burkes? Was he buying something? And finally, why had Harry decided to run away instead of kill him? It was this last question that bothered Harry the most. Last time Harry had seen Snape, chasing him through Hogwarts grounds, he had certainly wanted to kill him. Why now, when given the chance, did he not take it? This bothered Harry much more than what Ron was going to give to Fred and George for Christmas, since he hadn't bought anything for them. He couldn't think on it though, he had more important things to be doing.

Hermione had agreed to wrap all of Ron and Harry's presents for them (except the ones for her), so Harry surreptitiously took his insubstantiality potion up to one of the bedrooms on the top floor. Ron came in a moment later. "Coast's clear," he proclaimed. Harry locked the door just in case, then in a clear voice, he called for his house elf.

"Kreacher!" With a small pop, Kreacher, the Black family's ancient house-elf, appeared before them, clothed in a dirty tea towel emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest.

"Master called?" Kreacher asked in as unfriendly a tone as he could manage whilst pretending to be friendly, followed by "Disgrace it is, to call him master, filthy blooded..."

"Yes, Kreacher," Harry cut him off, "I called." Harry produced a small phial of potion from his pocket. "I want you to drink this. I want you to drink all of it without complaining. When you have finished drinking it, I want you to remain in this room. Do not move unless I tell you to, do not speak unless I ask you a question, and then you must reply truthfully. Okay?" Kreacher searched hopelessly for a loophole before nodding and taking the potion. Harry and Ron held their breath while Kreacher emptied the contents of the bottle into his mouth. Kreacher licked his lips as he passed the empty glass phial back to Harry. "How did it taste?" Harry asked.

"Not bad," the elf replied grumpily. "Like mint sauce."

"Do you feel any different due to the effects of the potion?"

"No Master." Ron was recording this information on a clipboard.

"I'm now going to cast some simple spells," Harry continued. "They won't hurt you, and you must not try to resist them." Harry lifted his wand at pointed it at the small, grubby elf. "Silencio!" The spell shot from the end of Harry's wand, hit Kreacher squarely in the chest, then bounced off the wall behind him. Ron raised his eyebrows. "What did that feel like?" Harry asked.

"It felt a bit breezy, Master," Kreacher replied, barely trying to conceal the bitterness in his voice. Ron looked delighted.

"Okay, now walk towards me," Harry instructed. Kreacher obeyed, and Harry cast _petrificus totalus_ non-verbally several times. Each spell hit the wall beyond Kreacher, making small dents in the plaster. "Stop walking now," Harry said, when his house elf was only two feet away. Ron and Harry spent a very enjoyable twenty minutes sending every curse they knew at Kreacher, only to have them soar straight through him. It was only when Ron aimed a jelly-legs jinx that their spells started having any effect.

"That's nearly half an hour!" Ron exclaimed as Harry lifted the curse. Harry turned to Kreacher.

"You are now to return to Hogwarts, and behave exactly as if I had not summoned you here this evening. Never speak of this meeting to anyone. Do you understand?"

"Yes master," Kreacher replied wearily, before disappearing with a resounding crack. Harry and Ron exchanged broad grins.

"Well that was a success!" Ron was excited.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "I guess now we need to test it on one of us, to see if it works the same, particularly the time it takes for the effects to wear off." They traipsed out of the room and met Hermione on the landing, who informed them that everyone would be arriving for the Order meeting in about half an hour.

"So I suggest you start getting ready," she added, before leaving to do so herself. Harry and Ron shared an exasperated look before taking her advice and heading to their rooms to prepare for the meeting.

The meeting of the Order of the Phoenix passed uneventfully as usual. Harry glimpsed Ginny when the Weasleys arrived, but she was swept hastily into the kitchen by Fleur to start on the dinner. Deciding that he didn't want the rest of the Order to think that he was confused, as Ron and Hermione obviously did, Harry mentioned to Moody privately about seeing Snape in Diagon Alley. As Moody took the meeting, the main points covered were that the Prophet was only reporting about a third of the Dementor attacks that were taking place, under order of the Ministry, that the Order had now placed an anti-Dark Mark shield around Hogwarts castle so no Death Eaters could enter even if they got through the other protective shields, and that Severus Snape had been sited in Knockturn Alley, so everyone should be alert at all times.

After the meeting, Harry sought Tonks. He had been thinking about asking her something for a while and the incident with Snape had pushed it to the front of Harry's mind. He cornered her after some members had already left. She grinned when he came over and greeted him with a playful punch on the shoulder. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "There's something I want to talk to you about." Harry led Tonks towards the back of the room where they would not be overheard. "I've been trying to get the grips of Legilimency," Harry told her. Tonks looked impressed. "The problem is, I've only been practising on Ron and Hermione, and they don't even know that I'm doing it," Harry admitted. "The person I intend to use it on has had rather more practise in blocking people trying to get into his mind." Tonks nodded to show that she understood. "I was wondering if there was someone at the Ministry, someone trustworthy, who would be able to spend some time with me so I can work on my magic," Harry explained.

"Good idea, Harry" Tonks replied, "I'll look into it."

Molly Weasley had summoned Ron and Hermione to help with dinner. Not wanting to get involved, Harry sat back down at the table with the others who were staying for food: Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Fred and George Weasley, Lupin, Tonks, Mad-eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Dedalus Diggle. The twins swooped on Harry and questioned him about where he had been and what he had been doing. When he refused to answer, they took it in turns to suggest ridiculous scenarios, like he had all of the Dementors under the imperious curse, and all the people they were supposed to have killed or worse were actually hiding in Azkaban, forming an army ready to take on both Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic.

Shortly, Hermione, Ron, Molly, Ginny and Fleur joined them, and silence fell as everyone tucked into large helpings of pork chops. Harry had been unable to escape the company of Fred and George, who took the opportunity to tell Harry about their new products. Harry wasn't really paying full attention, but luckily it was one of those conversations where he could just say "yeah" and "cool" without his lack of interest being detected. Harry's brain was working overtime, focusing on Snape, Ginny and the insubstantiality potion in a continuous cycle. By the time he had finished his first plateful, Harry was ready to go to bed. However, he was obliged to sit and wait while most people had a second helping, followed by banoffee cheesecake for dessert. Then he had to wait until they had all been taking it in turns to tell jokes for at least fifteen minutes before he felt he could reasonably slip away without arousing suspicion. While everyone was roaring at Tonks' rather graphic joke involving a Veela and a Vampire, Harry quietly excused himself and slunk unnoticed from the room.

He made his way up to the bedroom he and Ron had stayed in their first Christmas at Grimmauld Place – it wasn't the room he had chosen as his bedroom in his permanent residence there with only Ron and Hermione, but he couldn't be sure where everyone else would be staying over Christmas. Therefore, Hermione had suggested everyone keep their previous rooms. Harry closed the door and flopped down onto the bed. The empty canvas that was on occasions occupied by Phineas Nigellus was silent and still, not least because Hermione had fixed it with a nifty freezing charm. Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He tried occluding his mind, simply to give his brain a rest and enjoy the peace of the cool, empty room, as distinct from the crowd in the dining room as black from white. Harry allowed his body and mind to relax completely, rendering himself into a state of semi-consciousness. Harry's eyelids felt heavy and his head ached. His breathing had become deep and rhythmic when the sound of approaching footsteps on the landing roused him. He expected it to be either Molly or Hermione come to check on him. Harry sat up as the door opened and Ginny entered. She closed the door softly behind her and walked straight over to sit on the bed next to Harry. Harry's brain fumbled hopelessly for something appropriate to say: his mental competence was returning to him very slowly and his tongue seemed to have swollen to fill his mouth. Luckily, Ginny had more control over the situation.

"I've missed you, Harry," she said. "I know you told me we couldn't be together, but I can't be with anyone else. You're the only wizard for me." She gave him a brief kiss before leaving the room as abruptly as she had entered it. Harry exhaled and allowed a grin to spread across his face. Once again, he lay down onto the bed, though this time he fell immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Harry woke early the next morning and it took him a few minutes to remember where he was. He groped for his glasses, which had somehow been transferred from his head to his nightstand during the night, and brought the room into focus. Ron was snoring softly, but Harry could hear activity in the rest of the house and could smell bacon being fried. Harry showered quickly and made his way down to the dining room, where there was an enticing arrangement of bacon, eggs, sausage, toast, croissants with jam, fresh fruit and an assortment of cereals laid out on the vast table.

Molly, Arthur, Charlie and Hermione were already seated, and excitedly wished Harry a Merry Christmas when he entered. Suddenly feeling unusually cheerful, Harry took a sit next to Charlie Weasley and helped himself to a plate of bacon, eggs and toast, along with a large goblet of pumpkin juice. When they commented on his early night, Harry told his friends that he was simply exhausted and needed an early night, which seemed to satisfy everyone except Hermione, who made a point of staring at him throughout breakfast. When Ginny came down in her dressing gown, she took the seat on Harry's other side, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek as she poured herself a mug of coffee. Nobody seemed to notice this exchange, however, as Fred and George had taken the opportunity to enter the room wearing novelty hats that each were singing a different Christmas carol with most of the words changed to far ruder ones.

After everyone had had their fill of breakfast and got dressed, they congregated in the living room to open presents. All of the Weasleys (except Percy) plus Harry, Hermione, Lupin and Tonks and Fleur sprawled over cushions on the floor or folded themselves into squishy armchairs around the base of a large fir tree, which Harry swore had not been there yesterday. The room very quickly became a confusion of rustling paper and squeals of delight as they took it in turns to dive under the tree. Harry was most amused by his present from Fred and George: a specially designed 'Defeat the Dark Lord' kit.

"We need your approval, Harry, before we sell them," George said.

"We don't want to be responsible for someone else taking your glory," Fred agreed. Grinning, Harry opened the kit to reveal one Decoy Detonator, a pair of silk shield gloves ("You can touch cursed objects without feeling the effects", Fred explained), a sneakoscope, some rosemary to create a protective herb circle, a small bag of Truth Toffees ("Just a hint of Veritaserum, enough to make someone answer any question truthfully for about thirty seconds," said George), and two edible Dark Marks.

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Harry, grinning. "I'll even endorse them, if you like." Harry dove for his next present, which was from Hermione, and felt suspiciously like a book. He tore off the paper to reveal… a book. However, as Harry read the title, he realized this wasn't just any old book. "_'The Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood'_ by Albus Dumbledore," Harry read aloud. He gawped at Hermione, who said,

"I thought it might be a good read." Harry thanked her profusely, and forced himself to lay the book down until later while he opened his remaining presents, including a house cloak and some mince pies from Mrs and Mrs Weasley, and a snow globe from Ron, which contained a very detailed miniature of Hogwarts castle.

As Harry began stacking up his presents to take them up to his room, Lupin crouched down beside him and handed over a small gift-wrapped package. "I heard you were in need of a replacement," he said, as Harry peeled away the paper to reveal a knife, just like the one Sirius had given him a couple of years ago, that would open any lock. Harry stared at Lupin, who smiled back. "Try to be careful with this one, Harry. They're very difficult to come across." Harry thanked him and put the knife directly into his pocket. He and Ron levitated their present piles and headed up to their room together.

"Mum branched out a bit this year, didn't she?" Ron said, indicating the house cloaks he and Harry had draped over their arms. "Pity it's maroon though." Harry's cloak was navy blue, and he thought he saw Hermione with a very similar garment in lilac.

"Did she give one to everyone?" Harry asked.

"I think so," said Ron, "even Tonks and Lupin! She must have made them herself, there's no way she'd spend that much on Christmas presents." Harry placed the Hogwarts snow globe on his bedside table, and watched as Ron placed his new chess set in a similar position. Just then, the door opened and Hermione and Ginny entered smiling, each wearing new house cloaks in lilac and turquoise.

"Aren't you going to put your cloaks on?" Ginny asked the boys.

"You wouldn't if yours was maroon," Ron grumbled. Harry, however, swung his cloak over his shoulders.

"Yours is nice and bright," Harry said to Ginny.

"You haven't seen the best bit yet," Ginny said, and she opened the front of her cloak to reveal a black t-shirt with the words HARRY'S WITCH continuously flashing on the front. "My present from Fred and George," she exclaimed proudly. Harry was dumbstruck. So was Ron, as Hermione took him by the hand and led him out of the room, allowing Ginny and Harry to talk, if they ran out of better things to do.


	11. Chapter 11 Corpus Transfigorum

**Chapter 11 – Corpus Transfigorum**

Severus Snape was not enjoying the festive season. This was not unusual, but this year had been looking so promising; Snape no longer had to pretend to be on both sides of the war, he didn't have to endure endless hours of teaching incompetent students, and to be honest, he had actually been looking forward to spending a few days on his own with his feet up, immersed in a good book with a goblet of mulled wine close at hand. This, of course, was not what happened.

Instead, the Dark Lord had seen fit to entrust Severus with a most peculiar errand. Therefore, on Christmas Eve, Snape had travelled to Knockturn Alley to affirm the location of some treasure hidden therein. Not only were the streets and stores crowded and the weather foul, but he had also had the great misfortune to see Potter, heavily disguised as he was. Snape certainly had no trouble whatsoever in recognising those impudent green eyes that had also simpered in the face of the Mudblood Lily Evans. He was quite sure that Potter had seen him too, and that the unfamiliar witch and wizard accompanying him were Granger and Weasley. He noted, however bitterly, that their successful human transfigurations signified improvement in their magic skills, something he had not reckoned upon when learning that Potter had not returned to Hogwarts to complete his final year. In fact, Snape was curious how much they had advanced in the past few months; such information could prove invaluable.

Similarly, Lord Voldemort was also curious to ascertain the level of Potter's magical skill, and had requested that Snape do all he could to find out. It had been agreed that Potter and his friends were uncommonly good at hiding – all sources had been unsuccessful in their attempts to locate the troublesome trio, although one Death Eater had come close. A newcomer, Gravus McDonald, had noticed owls flying in daylight near his home in Manchester so had followed them and discovered three teenagers living in a house protected by an effective yet detectable secrecy charm. McDonald was able to break the charm and enter the house, but not before his presence had been acknowledged, and Potter and his friends had immediately fled, and not yet returned.

Instead of trying to locate Potter, Snape had decided on a plan to interrogate those who were certain to be in contact with him. After all, Severus Snape could be very persuasive. His dilemma now was which unsuspecting Muggle-lover would be most informative. Snape guessed Harry was in regular contact with members of the Order of the Phoenix. Out of them, Snape would rather not come in contact with any aurors if he could avoid it. After careful consideration, Snape selected his quarry.

* * *

For Harry, Christmas passed far too quickly. Within no time at all he was saying goodbye to Ginny, knowing that he would probably not see her again until after he had destroyed Voldemort, and that thought made him want to be sick. The absence of any other company stung Harry more than usual, as Ron and Hermione had, at last, admitted their attraction to each other. Hermione had adored the necklace from Ron, and in turn had presented him with tickets for the first Chudley Cannons game of the season, in July, at which point Ron had declared his love for her.

Harry was delighted for them, naturally, but felt increasingly as though he was imposing, just by being in the same room. Which, he thought bitterly, was unfair as they were all living in _his_ house. He had to continually remind himself that Ron and Hermione didn't have to help, that they were doing it out of loyalty and friendship. These were also the reasons they gave him for cursing and jinxing him whenever he turned his back for a moment. Harry resisted the urge to continuously take his insubstantiality potion, and thought instead that at least he was getting used to being cursed from behind, and he thought he was beginning to develop a resistance to lower level magic. Also, Ron's skills had improved considerably, so now he was able to cast most spells non-verbally. To make things more competitive, Harry had not only begun to curse his friends at every given opportunity, but was also trying to use Legilimency to detect what they were going to do before they even did it. He'd not told his friends he was practising this skill, and allowed them to believe he had developed very fast reflexes. However, on the morning of the 31st of December, Harry received a note from Tonks:

_Hi_

_I have found someone to help you, as you requested. _

_He will meet you outside HQ on the morning of the next meeting._

_Good Luck!_

Harry then had no choice but to tell Ron and Hermione that he would be having Legilimency and Occlumency lessons. "You're barmy," Ron told him. "After the last disastrous attempts, you'd have thought you'd learned to give up!" Hermione, on the other hand, thought it was an excellent idea.

"Great," she said, "It's bound to come in handy. Good thinking, Harry." Ron scowled as he added powdered ochu tentacles to the Felix Felicis potion they were continuing to brew. "Carefully, Ron," Hermione reprimanded him. Harry re-read his note and folded it carelessly into his pocket. The next Order meeting was a week away, the day before students returned to Hogwarts. Harry fantasized that Mrs Weasley might bring Ginny along, but was not very hopeful. He easily managed to deflect the conjunctivitis curse that Hermione threw at him for not paying attention.

"I'm listening," Harry said. "'Keep adding powdered ochu tentacles until your potion begins to thicken.' Then what?"

"We'll get onto that when the potion starts to thicken," Hermione snapped, looking a little harassed by the stubbornly low viscosity of her potion. "Why won't it thicken?" She demanded, of nobody in particular. Harry was thinking of his potions book from the previous year – although it had turned out the book had belonged to Snape, Harry had still found it invaluable in his potions lessons. Snape had scribbled his own improvements to the book's instructions on nearly every page, as well as some spells he had invented himself. He hated to admit it, but Harry knew that there would be an improved formula for Felix Felicis that would solve their thickening problem.

Eventually, Hermione gave up, owing to the fact that they had run out of ochu tentacles and the potion was no thicker than weak tea. She decided, instead, to continue with human transfiguration. They had been using a large, dusty room on the second floor, which was empty except for a few odd chairs scattered round the edges, and a large mirror on one wall. Hermione's temperament improved substantially when both Ron and Harry were able to transfigure themselves on request. "That's really great!" She encouraged them. "Just remember to keep practising it or you might forget how to do it. Now, should we have a go at transforming ourselves into animals? It's not technically a taught subject, but one of the books I took from Snape's house explains it really well, so we could have a go if you like."

"Transform ourselves into animals?" Ron asked. "Like animagi?"

"Not really, no," Hermione explained, "because with animagi, the witch or wizard stays in their animal form indefinitely until either they lift the spells themselves or a powerful counter jinx is administered. With transfiguration, the spell will wear off in time, and even the most simple revealing charms will end its effects."

"How much time till it wears off?" Harry asked.

"I think it depends on the complexity of the animal and the strength of the spell, but only a few hours at maximum."

"Could be useful, then," Ron said, glancing over to Harry for his opinion.

"Yeah, could be useful," Harry agreed. "Do you want to have a go, Hermione?"

"I suppose I could. I have read the chapter quite thoroughly. It suggests you start with a chimpanzee because their genetic pattern is so similar it requires very little magic in comparison to becoming an eagle, for example." As Hermione readied herself, Harry allowed his mind to stray momentarily, imagining what it would be like to transfigure yourself into an eagle whenever you felt like it.

"Now Harry," Hermione's voice interrupted his thoughts, "and Ron, when I've transformed, I might not be able to transfigure myself back again. If I have difficulty, you will end the spell for me, won't you?" Harry hurriedly stopped himself from laughing out loud at Hermione being stuck as a chimpanzee for a couple of hours, and nodded solemnly. "A simple finishing spell like _finite incantatum_ should do it," Hermione said. "Ok, here we go." Harry took a couple of cautious steps backwards and watched as Hermione pointed her wand directly between her own eyes. "_Schimshesco_!" she incanted.

Very rapidly, Hermione's hair shrank back to her scalp and flowed onto her face. Her arms stretched and hung at her sides, her nose flattened itself into her face and her ears retreated into her head. Harry's jaw dropped in astonishment. He was standing in the room with a speechless Ron and a chimpanzee wearing a lilac house cloak. As Harry stood gawking, the chimpanzee admired her hairy forearms and lifted her long fingers up to scratch her flat nose. After several long moments, Harry turned to look at Ron, who had raised his wand to point at the chimpanzee. In no time at all, Hermione was once again standing in the centre of the room.

"Wicked!" Ron whooped, rushing towards Hermione. "What did it feel like? Did you feel more like a witch or a chimpanzee?"

"It felt weird," Hermione said, "but perfectly normal at the same time. I felt like I was still me, but a different shape. I felt like I had always been a chimpanzee, but I knew I was really a human."

The absurdity of the situation made the three of them a bit silly for a while, taking it in turns to suggest animals they could transform into, and laughing hysterically at each other's suggestions. "How about a salmon?" suggested Ron.

"Or a penguin," said Hermione.

"Or a possum," Harry said, and they all fell about laughing. When they had calmed down a little, Harry asked, "You know when fake Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret?" which he had meant to be a serious question, but as soon as he said it, he couldn't have stopped laughing even if Malfoy has appeared in front of him. As they settled down again, Harry continued. "My point is, can we learn how to transfigure other people into animals like that?"

"Yeah," said Ron, enthusiastically. "That could be really useful."

"Then maybe _we _could turn Malfoy into a ferret," Harry mused. Ron grinned appreciatively.

Hermione paused. "It's really tricky. I know it's not on the school syllabus, even for NEWT level. I think McGonagall mentioned it once in passing. There's a book she hinted at in the restricted section of the library called _Corpus Transfigorum_…" Hermione trailed off and her eyes glazed for a moment before she swayed alarmingly on the spot and stumbled backwards to the edge of the room, where she fell onto a stiff wooden seat.

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron called together. "Are you ok?" Hermione looked at them, her breaths small and sharp.

"Ravenclaw," she managed to utter. "Ravenclaw," she repeated, but Harry and Ron were none the wiser.

"Ravenclaw what?" Ron prompted her.

"Corpus Transfigorum," Hermione spoke in a strange, breathy voice, "it was written by Rowena Ravenclaw." Ron and Harry exchanged shocked but excited glances. "The copy at Hogwarts is the original hand-written copy. She wrote it in the library and demanded that it was to be kept there so future students could learn directly from her, so to speak." A she looked up at them her cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry," she mumbled, "I should have thought about this ages ago."

"Don't be daft," Harry said. "It might be nothing, but we should definitely check it out. Are we up for a trip to Hogwarts?"

It was agreed that the trip to Hogwarts to investigate the book written by Rowena Ravenclaw should take place on the 7th January. This was the date the teachers would be returning to Hogwarts in preparation for the students to arrive the following evening. Therefore, the school would be more easily penetrable than when it was completely empty and inaccessible to anyone as it would be until the teachers returned, yet there would be no students around, which meant far fewer people to dodge. It was also the day of Harry's first meeting with his Legilimency teacher, and the date of the first Order of the Phoenix meeting of the year. Luckily, Hermione had everything planned out efficiently. She assumed Harry's Legilimency instructor would arrive no earlier than 8 am, and no later than 12 noon. In that time period, they would take it in turns to keep lookout while the others got dressed and ate breakfast, before practising duelling in pairs. While Harry was in his Legilimency meeting, Hermione would help Ron practise non-verbal spells, which he was slowly getting the hang of. After Harry's lesson, the three of them would have lunch if necessary, and then take a journey to Hogwarts.

So at 9 o'clock on the morning in question, Harry found himself sitting in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place, gazing out of the window at the empty, snow dusted street. He was passing time by conjuring birds and turning them into water goblets of assorted styles and colours. Harry had quite an array of vessels before something outside caught his attention. He looked up to see a familiar old wizard in purple robes – the wizard who had supervised Harry's apparition test. Harry apparated outside to meet him (he did not want to betray the location of the Order headquarters). The older wizard started at Harry's sudden appearance, but recomposed himself directly.

"Harry Potter," he said. "We meet again."

"Hello, Professor Tenuit," Harry said. "Thank you for doing this for me."

"Not at all," Tenuit replied. "I'm glad to help. There's not much a wizard like me can do, you know."

Harry bit back his tongue to prevent himself from launching into a well-practiced speech detailing exactly what a wizard like Tenuit could do to help, and reminded himself that Tenuit _was_ helping. Harry smiled. "So where should we go for our sessions?" Harry asked. "We can't stand out here much longer, I'm in hiding, you see."

"Yes," replied Tenuit, "Nymphadora told me about your situation. Don't worry; I have discovered a derelict old thatched cottage not far from here. I've put up some shields and I'm sure it will be quite safe. Will you accompany me?"

Harry released his hold on Professor Tenuit's arm as they came to a stand in a large field, wild with frost-covered over-grown grass. In the dim winter morning light, the two wizards trudged up the field where a small, tumbledown cottage stood, nearly hidden beneath the assortment of plants that had grown up and around it. As they got nearer the building, Harry heard Tenuit softly mumbling incantations, which, Harry presumed, would alleviate the shields placed around the house. Following Tenuit, Harry entered a very musty smelling room, which held only a wooden dining table and several old moth-eaten armchairs. A small collection of birds had made nests in the rafters and the windows were broken, so wind whistled through the room, which was just as bitterly cold as outside had been. As Tenuit levitated the furniture to the sides of the rooms, Harry muttered "'_chauchambre_'" and held his wand out, feeling the temperature in the room gradually rise. When it was no longer cold, Harry let his wand fall and the air retained its heat. Tenuit surveyed Harry, impressed by this spell. "More useful than a fire if we don't want to be detected," Harry said.

"I quite agree," said Professor Tenuit, "Though it is unusual for wizards your age to think of these things, let alone to know the spells."

"I'm not like most wizards my age," Harry conceded, "but I'm trying to remedy that." After a couple of seconds of silence in which Tenuit gazed quizzically at Harry, the older wizard cleared his throat.

"Now Harry," he began, "I understand that you have had lessons in Occlumency before, but that they weren't very successful." Harry nodded in affirmation. "But I do not think that you have had any lessons in Legilimency?" Harry shook his head. "Well then, what I propose is that we first begin with Legilimency." Tenuit could tell that Harry was surprised at this suggestion, so quickly explained. "I believe that once you have learned the theory of Legilimency and are able to perform it aptly, the process of Occlumency will become much simpler. However, I must stress that not all witches and wizards are in fact capable of Legilimency, and it takes a lot of dedication and practice, as well as power and skill, so do not be disappointed if you find it rather difficult."

"I have already tried a little Legilimency," Harry confessed. "On my Muggle cousin and two of my friends, but they've always been unaware of it, so have made no attempts to block me."

"Well that's a good start," Tenuit said enthusiastically. "I seem to have underestimated your ability, Mr Potter, for which I am very sorry. Tell me, are you able to manipulate the thoughts of others in order to seek information, or is your perception purely that of your target's current thoughts?"

"Well," replied Harry, "it's a bit of both. With my cousin, I asked him what he had done that day before I performed the spell, so that his thoughts were about his day, which is what I wanted to see anyway. With my friends, the images were quite hazy and changed a lot, so I don't know if that was them or me changing the thoughts."

"You can perform the spell non-verbally, I presume?"

"Yes," Harry responded, "I couldn't do it verbally to start with because I was underage in a house of Muggles, and I've already received 2 cautions from the ministry for underage magic, so I just practised non-verbally until I could do it."

"I see," said Tenuit. "Your friends you've been practising on, they're wizards?"

"A witch and wizard, yes," said Harry.

"Do they know you've been practising on them?"

"I don't think so," Harry replied. "And I don't think they know Occlumency either, which is why I need someone who knows what they're doing. When it comes down to it, I want to be able to use Occlumency against Voldemort (Harry noticed a shudder at the name) and Legilimency against his Death Eaters. I'm sure some of them at least will be trying to do the same to me, so I'd like to get the advantage if I can." Professor Tenuit looked incredibly tired for a short moment, and then raised his eyes to meet Harry's in way that reminded Harry unhappily of Dumbledore.

"Very well," said the professor. "Let's get started then, shall we?" Harry readied his stance and stood facing Tenuit. "Now you just do Legilimency the way you've been practising. I wont try to block you this time, okay? Whenever you're ready, then, Harry."

Harry performed the spell wordlessly and without the requisite wand movements as he had been forced to do before his seventeenth birthday. He entered Tenuit's mind easily, seeing images of their first meeting at the apparition test centre. Pushing these aside, Harry also saw a ginger cat stuck in a tree, with an old woman standing at the bottom of the tree, trying to coax the cat down. A moment later, Harry was watching the same woman, though many years younger, playing a violin in a small concert hall while a much younger Professor Tenuit sat watching from a seat in the front row. Deciding this was sufficient, Harry cancelled the spell and became once more aware of his surroundings.

"Well done, Harry!" Tenuit congratulated him. "Not bad at all. Is that the same sort of thing you've managed before?"

"Yes," said Harry. "I can move between memories but I can't find anything in particular; I can't search for a particular scenario."

"That's quite alright, that will come only with a lot more practise."

"Sir," Harry said tentatively, "Who was the woman? Calling the cat and playing the violin."

Tenuit smiled softly before replying. "My wife, Ingrid. She died several years ago from a prolonged illness."

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry said.

"Not to worry, Harry. She had suffered a bit so it was for the best, really. Of course, it's always a shame to lose someone you love, isn't it?" Harry nodded solemnly, only too familiar with the despair of losing someone close to him. "Now then," Tenuit continued, "try that again and see if you can hold it a little while longer."


	12. Chapter 12 The Fourth Horcrux

**Chapter 12 – The Fourth Horcrux**

Harry returned to his house in Grimmauld Place just over an hour later. He found Hermione in the kitchen preparing a light lunch. "Ron's practising that physical shield," she said. "I've bewitched things to fly at him and he has to get the shield right or they'll hit him." Harry was already aware that Hermione was pushing them all, but especially Ron, to the extent of their capabilities, but was beginning to think that maybe she was being a bit cruel.

"Hermione, don't you think that's a bit cruel?" he said, and immediately wished he hadn't. Hermione turned on him with all the ferocity of an angry tiger.

"No, Harry," she exploded, "I don't think I'm being cruel! I'm trying to create realistic situations in which we may have to defend ourselves. It might seem like we're safe at the moment, hidden in this house, but what happens when we've found all the Horcruxes? Then we'll have to get to Voldemort, and I don't think his Death Eaters will just stand back and let us. And what about our exams? Harry, I'm being serious! If this book is a Horcrux, then we've only got one left to find. It's only January, all of this could be over in a few months."

"Do you really think that's possible?"

"Yes, Harry, of course I do! Think of everything we've managed to achieve in only the past year! We've not got much left to do in comparison."

"Except kill Voldemort." Harry said monotonously.

"Well yes," Hermione said, a touch of anxiety in her voice, "We will have to think about that."

"Think about it?" said Harry sarcastically. "Yeah, 'cause that'll be much harder than actually doing it."

"Harry, don't start." Hermione snapped, and returned to tearing lettuce. Harry thought it was best to leave, so he shuffled off to find Ron. In the same room they had been using to practise human transfiguration, Harry discovered Ron standing quite composedly, surrounded by objects that were constantly whizzing towards him, yet bounced off an invisible barrier before they reached him.

"Looks like you've got the hang of that one," Harry said.

"Yeah, it's not going too bad," Ron said, smirking. Harry waved his wand carelessly and the objects (which, Harry observed, included china mugs and some heavy-looking books) ceased moving and fell noisily to the floor. "How'd your lesson go?" Ron asked.

"Not too bad," Harry replied. "My teacher is the guy who I had for my apparition test, Professor Tenuit. He seems alright." They started to head down to the kitchen. "Hey, I think I upset Hermione a bit just now," Harry said tentatively. "Do you want to go down ahead and check she's okay?" Ron looked at him in alarm.

"Go in on my own? With Hermione in a bad mood?" Ron shook his head. "Nah. Let's just leave it a while, she'll cool off." They changed course and headed for the drawing room instead. They had only been there a few minutes, discussing potions, when Hermione strolled in.

"Glad to see you're making good use of your time," she said tartly.

"Actually, we were trying to remember the recipe and correct ingredients for Polyjuice potion," Ron said defiantly.

"Oh. Well go on then, what are the ingredients?" Hermione demanded. Her expression, however, had changed from annoyed to mildly interested, and gradually formed one of delight as between them Harry and Ron listed all of the ingredients correctly. "Well done!" she said proudly. "Okay, you've earned some food. Lunch is ready."

After lunch they would continue with Hermione's plan for the day. First, they would apparate to Hogsmeade, at which point Hermione would take the invisibility cloak (as she was the only one of them still small enough to be able to run with the cloak covering all of her) and proceed into Hogwarts. Harry had suggested she take some insubstantiality potion just to be on the safe side, but Hermione had declined the offer, arguing that she would only be taking the invisibility cloak as an extra precaution anyway. She intended on crossing the lake to get into the grounds, so that she wouldn't have to work out how to get in through the gates. When Hermione was safe inside the Hogwarts grounds, she would then proceed to the statue of the humpbacked, one-eyed witch on the third floor, behind which was the secret passage Harry had used in his third year. This is where Harry and Ron would be waiting, having entered the passage via a trapdoor hidden in the cellar below Honeydukes'. At this point, Hermione would cast a charm she had recently mastered, causing all of the inhabitants of the building to fall into a deep sleep for exactly one hour, in which she, Ron and Harry were free to retrieve the book from the library, destroy the soul if it turned out to be a Horcrux, and safely return to Hogsmeade. From Hogsmeade they would apparate back to Grimmauld Place and arrive in plenty of time for the Order meeting in the evening.

Harry had added his own amendments, which primarily involved going to the Room of Requirement to retrieve his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_. If Hermione started to make a fuss, he would just tell her that the book would surely have a solution to her Felix Felicis thickening problem.

At around midday, Harry and Ron skulked around outside Honeydukes' in Hogsmeade, keeping a sharp eye out for anyone approaching or anything to arouse suspicion. Although the shop was closed, Harry had a hunch that the owners would be inside, so he and Ron could hardly blast the door down and waltz right in.

"What d'ya reckon then?" asked Ron. "Unlock the door, keep it quiet, head straight for the cellar and jinx anyone who tries to stop us?"

"Not a bad plan," Harry agreed, "but don't you think it makes us the bad guys? Breaking in and hexing anyone who gets in our way?"

"Well when you put it like that…" Ron furrowed his brow, apparently deep in thought.

"I brought this just in case," Harry said. He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled it out to reveal a small black curiosity with short little legs sitting in the palm of his hand. "One of Fred and George's decoy detonators," he said.

"Wicked," Ron enthused. "So unlock the door, keep it quiet, and if we hear anyone coming, we send that off."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "And if anyone gets in our way…"

"Then we jinx them," Ron finished his sentence, grinning. He turned to the door and tried a few unlocking spells, first non-verbally, then spoken aloud, just in case it was his magic that was the trouble, rather than the spell. When the door still wouldn't budge, Ron crouched to his knees and took a piece of wire from his pocket. "Growing up with those two does have its advantages," Ron said, as he silently picked the lock. Harry jumped as the latch clicked softly back, unlocking the door. He hadn't realized it but he'd been holding his breath; he let it out in a long, low whistle.

"After you," Ron said, gently pushing open the door. Harry cautiously crept in the room, taking care to immobilise the bell over his head to prevent its ringing out and alerting everyone in the vicinity of their presence. Harry strained his ears but couldn't hear anything except the rustle of trees outside and a soft ticking from a large bubblegum pink clock on the wall. He shuffled forwards as quietly as he could across the shop floor, very thankful that there were no CCTV cameras in the wizarding world. As he peered around, Harry realized that most of the shelves, usually crammed with delicious goodies of every variety, were empty and dusty. He couldn't help feeling astounded at the amount of chaos Lord Voldemort had already caused, and Harry got the impression that he had barely begun implementing his tyrannous plans. With Ron close behind him, Harry had now reached the steps down to the cellar. He pressed his ear to the floor and yet again detected no sound, so carefully descended to the sweet shop's storeroom. The cellar was barely recognisable from when Harry had last seen it, stocked heavily with boxes and crates in piles up to the ceiling covering nearly every square inch of the floor. Now the room was dark, cold, and practically empty, save for the odd mop and a few smaller boxes, each coated with a thick layer of dust. Harry glanced back at Ron, who was looking staring unblinkingly at a large spider nestled on top of one of small the boxes. Harry nudged him to get his attention, and pointed to the trapdoor in the stone floor, barely visible through the grime. Ron nodded and approached it. He lifted the door easily and, after lighting the tip of his wand, slid into the tunnel. Harry followed suit, and soon they were both hurrying along a dark passage, hunched over because of the low ceilings that hadn't really bothered Harry's shorter, third-year self.

Meanwhile, had anyone been watching the vast lake below the Hogwarts castle, they would have seen a teenage witch transform herself into an oversized brown otter, and dive rather ungracefully into the dark water. Hermione, in her new otter form, swam with determination across a good distance of the lake towards the castle. She had guessed, correctly, that other than the secret passageways, the lake would be the only way of entering the castle undetected. The three of them could have chanced taking a secret passage together, except Ginny had the Marauders Map, so upon entering the castle they could have been spotted immediately.

When Hermione resurfaced near the castle grounds she was exhausted from swimming and lay on the bank for a short while to catch her breath. She only stopped for a few moments, then sprinted on four tiny paws up towards the castle. The front doors were open and guarded by Filch. Convinced he hadn't seen her, Hermione hovered hidden behind a small rock until Filch was looking away. Seizing her chance, she ran flat out through the front doors and into the entrance hall. Once inside the castle, she turned into a narrow hallway and hid in an alcove behind a tapestry of Wendelin the Weird. Now all she had to do was to wait until the transfiguration magic wore off.

A very uneventful twenty minutes passed, then Hermione found herself human once more. She threw Harry's invisibility cloak over her head and hurried up through the castle to the third floor corridor, pausing only once when she heard footsteps, but it turned out they were heading in the opposite direction. Within a few minutes, Hermione reached the statue of the humpbacked witch. She stood next to it, and rapped hard on the wall with her knuckles, three sharp knocks. A moment later, three sharp knocks sounded from the other side of the wall, where Harry and Ron, tightly squeezed together at the end of the secret passage, now placed a defensive shield around themselves. Hermione waved her wand in a large swooping motion. She paused, then thrust her wand forwards, emitting a loud, resounding bang. Still hidden beneath the cloak, Hermione waited for someone to come running. After a couple of minutes, nobody had arrived, so Hermione knew that her spell had worked, and everyone in the castle was now fast asleep. She removed the cloak and tuned back to the statue. She tapped it lightly with her wand and muttered '_dissendium_'. At once the statue's hump opened up. Hermione peered sceptically over the top of the stone to where Ron and Harry were squished behind it.

"I can see that Harry wouldn't have had trouble when he was thirteen," she said, "but I'm not sure either of you will fit through this gap now."

Harry twisted his neck awkwardly to look up at Hermione. She did have a point.

"Make it bigger then!" Ron instructed. His voice was muffled as Harry's arm had pinned Ron's head against the wall in their cramped condition. Hermione scowled at him, but nevertheless she lazily waved her wand over the statue, casting _reducio_, so that the statue shrank so small so quickly that Harry and Ron spilled out of the hole into the corridor. Hermione stood with her hands on her hips and glared down at them.

"Honestly!" she sighed, but Harry noticed she was smiling. He picked himself up from the floor and held a hand out to Ron, then hauled him up, too. "Come on," Hermione ushered the down the corridor, "we haven't got all day!" The three of them headed to the library quickly, not making much conversation on the way. When they reached the library, Hermione was practically dancing with excitement at being back in the place she had spent most of the past six years. Harry was a little excited, too, but he was working hard not to get his hopes up, just in case it turned out to be nothing. "This way," Hermione said unnecessarily as she led the way to the restricted section of the library.

"What did you say it was called?" Ron asked, peering up at the tall bookcase in front of him.

"_Corpus Transfigorum_," Hermione and Harry replied together.

"So this big one here?" Ron carefully levitated a very old, dusty and heavy book; the cover was peeling and mouldy around the edges. Ron directed the book directly into Hermione's hands, who squealed involuntarily upon receiving it.

"Harry, can I do it? Can I see if it's a Horcrux?" Hermione whispered.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, okay" he said. Trembling slightly, Hermione placed the ancient, handwritten manuscript onto one of the library tables. She took out her wand and, aiming it the book, incanted "_expostra dementa_". Slowly, a silvery substance like solid gas spiralled upwards from the book. Hermione and Ron were as still as if they had been petrified. The silver wisp had begun to descend back towards the book.

Quick as a flash, Harry brandished his wand and yelled "_noyu detru_!" The smoke-like coil ignited from the electric blue shield surrounding the book, and burned until all traces of it had completely disappeared. Harry's heart was beating fast. He tore his gaze away from Ravenclaw's book to see Hermione and Ron as white as ghosts and still as statues. "It's okay," Harry said. "We did it!" He couldn't help the huge grin that was now spreading across his face. He grabbed Ron and Hermione by the elbows and shook them a little. His friends shook themselves free from their momentary stupor. "We did it!" Harry exclaimed again, "Only one more left to find!" Harry couldn't hold in his excitement any more and pulled both his friends into a rib-breaking hug.

"Harry, geroff," Ron said, though he too was grinning like a maniac. When Harry released them a moment later, Hermione was also smiling but still looked quite shaky.

"So," Harry said. "Next part of the plan."

"I have to copy out the bit from the book on transforming other people into animals," Hermione stuttered. She pulled a quill and parchment from thin air and busied herself at the table.

"Right," said Harry, realising his opportunity to collect Snape's old potions book. "Will you be alright on your own if Ron and I wander off for a bit?" he asked in as casual a voice as he could manage. Hermione seemed to sense something suspicious though, as she looked up sharply.

"Wander where?" she asked. Harry felt a strange compelling to tell her the truth and had to halt himself abruptly. "Just for a wander," said Harry, innocently. Hermione glared at him for a few seconds, then returned her focus to her task. "Just be back before the charm lifts," she said. Harry and Ron turned out of the library and right down the corridor.

"What's that about?" Ron asked when they were out of earshot.

"I want to get Snape's potion book back," Harry said, and sped up his pace. "The only problem is, I told Ginny that the Room of Requirement should be sealed to stop anyone else entering the castle that way."

"So if McGonagall's sealed it…" Ron said, following Harry's train of thought without bothering to finish the sentence. The pair of them quickened their pace again, so when they arrived on the seventh floor corridor opposite the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy they were quite out of breath. In silence, they each walked passed the spot they knew was the entrance to the room several times.

"_I need to get my potions book back," _Harry repeated monotonously to himself. Eventually they stopped and a door had appeared in the wall.

"She's not sealed it then!" Ron exclaimed, delighted. Harry tried the handle but the door would not open.

"Oh yes she has" Harry said. He sighed and sat down on the floor, leaning against the stone wall next to the impenetrable doorway. He could tell from Ron's furrowed brow that he was surreptitiously trying to open the door with non-verbal unlocking charms. Harry, on the other hand, was positive that McGonagall would have made sure unlocking charms were useless. Eventually Ron gave up and gazed down at Harry as if awaiting instructions. Harry smiled grimly. "I've really stuck myself right in it, haven't I?"

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "What a clever idea, telling McGonagall to seal the Room of Requirement."

"One of my best yet," Harry agreed. Ron hesitated for a moment, as if making up his mind what to say.

"Shall we, erm, just go back and wait for Hermione then?" he asked tentatively.

"There's got to be a way in," Harry said defiantly. He pushed himself up so he was standing next to Ron, and stared at the door, willing it to open. "Ron," he said thoughtfully, "if you were locked out of your house, how would you get back in?" Ron shrugged.

"Dunno. Apparate, I guess. 'Cept we can't apparate in here, Hermione's always telling us that."

"That's true," Harry said, but his tone suggested there might be a way round it. Harry was thinking of his last year at Hogwarts, and how Kreacher and Dobby had appeared in the hospital wing one evening. "I've got it," Harry said. He took a breath and called "Dobby!" He waited. Nothing happened. Ron was looking at Harry as if he had gone mad.

"They're all asleep, remember?" Ron said scathingly, but something at the back of Harry's mind was urging him to try again.

"Dobby!" Harry called again.

"Did you hear me Harry? They're all …" but Ron stopped speaking as the bat-eared elf appeared before them, looking as though he had just woken from a particularly rough night.

"Harry Potter sir!" Dobby exclaimed delightedly, instantly bowing so low his pointed nose scraped the cold stone floor.

"Oh, I get it now!" Ron grinned as comprehension dawned. "They're asleep but you can wake them up if you want. And of course house elves can apparate within the castle!"

"Hey, Dobby," Harry said, ignoring Ron. "How have you been?"

"Dobby has been very well, Harry Potter. All the other house elves is living in fear now, because he-who-shall-not-be-named has returned, but not Dobby, sir! Because Dobby knows Harry Potter will save us!" Dobby looked up at Harry, his adoring protuberant eyes glistening with tears of admiration. Harry felt as though someone had poured a bucket of ice down the back of his neck, and Ron was doubled over in silent hysterics.

"Yeah," Harry said, a little thrown off his guard. "Listen, Dobby. Can you do me a favour?"

"Anything, sir!" Dobby enthused.

"I can't get into the Room of Requirement, and there's something I need in there. Can you help? Can you get in?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Oh, yes, Harry Potter, sir," the small elf replied. "Witches and wizards have been locked out, but we house elves can still get in sir!"

"Great," said Harry. "I need to retrieve a book…" Harry trailed off as he tried to remember where he had placed the book so as to give Dobby coherent instructions on how to locate it. Ron had finally stopped laughing enough to contribute to the conversation.

"Maybe Dobby can open the door from the inside?" Ron suggested. Harry raised his eyebrows thoughtfully, but Dobby's ears drooped and he lowered his gaze to the floor.

"Dobby has tried, sir, but the door cannot be opened," he mumbled.

"Never mind," Harry consoled him. "The book is called Advanced Potion-Making. Now, if you turn left at the stuffed troll…"

Ron and Harry found Hermione just outside the library with a sheaf of parchment held under her left arm. "Where on earth have you two been?" she hissed. "We've only got two minutes to get back in the secret passage until the sleeping spell wears off!" Harry and Ron exchanged a quick look of dismay before turning and sprinting back down the corridor, Hermione hurrying along in their wake. As they approached the statue of the one-eyed witch, Harry clench his fist around the tiny book in his pocket, shrunk to the size of a stamp with his _reducio_ charm. He watched Ron scramble through the hole and dove in after him. He turned in time to see Hermione restore the statue behind them as they heard footsteps approaching along the corridor.


	13. Chapter 13 Rendezvous with the HBP

**Chapter 13 – Rendezvous with the Half Blood Prince**

The plan was inspired, it was genius. It was, however, flawed.

Outside hailstones plummeted down, rocketing off the windows and making a terrible din. Inside, within a dingy room lit only by the flickering light of a diminishing fire, a man sat massaging his temples against the racket of the weather, against the bitter hollowing feeling of failure, and against a vicious hatred, a most fervent loathing. It was as though the hail berating the street outside was a reflection of his mood; sultry yet excited, harsh and despondent all at once. The wizard lay back into the sagging cushions of the high-backed armchair, his waxy white complexion even more pale than usual, the shadows under his eyes accentuated by the orange glow as he stared into the dancing tongues of flame and smoke.

Unlike his Lord, Snape was not accustomed to being thwarted by a mere boy of no extraordinary talent, yet he found this was happening more and more frequently. Only in the past year, Potter had been at least partially responsible for the activities that lost Snape his job and his home, had evaded detection by all of the wizarding world, and had now escaped confrontation with Snape on three separate occasions since the death of Dumbledore. The first, naturally, had been the evening of the memorable event, when insufferable Potter had used Snape's own spells against him, as arrogant and incompetent as his father before him. The second was when they unintentionally met in Knockturn Alley, though since Potter had disapparated immediately it would have been difficult for Snape to cause any serious lasting damage. The third occasion was previously that very day, just after the thus far unceasing hail had started to fall that dreary afternoon. Snape exhaled heavily, unwilling to admit himself defeated. It had been a long, not to mention thoroughly disappointing, day.

Severus Snape had awoken that morning with the intention of implementing his very own well-thought-out plan without revealing said plan to the Dark Lord. For nearly six months Potter and his companions had successfully avoided being detected (except for brief sightings) not only by the Death Eaters, but apparently also by the Ministry of Magic and even, as far as anyone could establish, the Order of the Phoenix. The rest of the wizarding world, it seemed, was anxious to discover the whereabouts of their _saviour_, and was becoming increasingly restless with the _Chosen One_'s reluctance to be located. Snape didn't set much store by the damn prophecy, but he did believe Potter capable of ruining their plans, as he had so aptly accomplished on innumerable previous occasions. However, there was a tiny detail that seemed to have been overlooked by most, which was that although nobody knew Potter's whereabouts, somebody somewhere was undoubtedly in touch with him, and Snape had a shrewd idea who that person could be. The only problem was how to reach her.

Hogwarts was notoriously difficult to penetrate, now more so than ever before. The vanishing cabinet had been tried again at the beginning of the school year, and though it still functioned adequately, the trespasser could not leave the room in which the cabinet was stored, which seemed to be locked from the other side. The passage from the Shrieking shack had been blocked by an invisible shield that none of the Death Eaters had yet managed to break. After careful analysis of the situation, Snape concluded that the only way into Hogwarts was over the lake, the way the first years entered the school each year. He would simply bewitch a boat and sail across to the school, perform legilimency on the Weasley girl, or else force Veritaserum down her throat, and find out how she and Potter were communicating. Depending on the answer, he would either appropriate the means of their communication or set her under the Imperious curse. The plan was undoubtedly brilliant, marvellous in its simplicity.

Snape snarled to himself in the surrounding darkness as he recollected the problems he hadn't expected to encounter. Upon arriving earlier that day at the banks of the vast lake, Snape had no difficulty whatsoever in conjuring a small wooden boat and charming it to transport him across the water. The problems came when Snape had travelled far enough across the lake to secure a good view of the castle. He had taken the precaution of disillusioning himself in case someone chanced to look in his direction before he had reached the school. Yet when the boat had travelled a reasonable distance and the castle was now plainly visible, Snape suddenly collided with something so solid he was thrust right to the back of the vessel. Hesitantly, he extended his arm forwards, and felt a wall of solid air only a few short feet in front of him. It was another shield, not dissimilar from that blocking the entrance via the Shrieking shack. Snape cast every counter spell he knew, becoming more and more frustrated with the absurdity of such an inextinguishable force field. To his astonishment and great aggravation, a couple of ducks passed through the barrier without issue or hesitation. In desperation, Snape tried a few other spots along the invisible wall, but the result was the same at each location. He howled in frustration, sitting suddenly as the boat shook violently with his rage. Then, barely audible over the softly rippling waves disturbing the surface of the vast mass of water, there was a _pop_ on the shore. Snape peered to ascertain the source of the sound; he could just about make out two figures with their wands raised, pointing towards him. Whipping round, he saw a similar sight on the opposite bank. "Damn aurors!" he hissed, before disapparating.

Snape reappeared not at the house provided for him in Little Hangleton, but in the derelict alleys of Spinner's End, with the intention of collecting one or two items to help him break the Hogwarts shield. Here it was raining heavily, the odd chunk of ice ricocheting off boarded-up windows and cracked pavements. As Snape hastened along the cobbled roads, pulling his cloak tightly around him, more drops hardened as they fell, and the rain had morphed to hail before he reached shelter. A droplet of water clung to the tip of his hooked nose and his breath hung in a mist before him as Snape silently entered his former home.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Snape could tell that something was wrong. Something had changed about the house since he had seen it last, not least the secret doorway in his sitting room was slightly ajar. Snape whipped his wand from his pocket and held it in front of him. Cautiously he slipped silently towards the would-be hidden door, straining his ears for any sound. He placed his foot carefully on the second stair, knowing that the first step creaked loudly. If there was an intruder, Snape didn't want them alerted of his presence until he had the advantage. As he crept up the narrow staircase, Snape was seething with anger at the audacity of someone entering his house unbidden. As a chill swept down the stairs past his ankles, Snape became increasingly certain the trespasser was still in the building.

When he reached the top step, Snape paused behind the closed door that led into his concealed quarters and listened hard for a few moments. There was definitely someone in there – Snape could hear faint shuffling and shallow breathing. Highly incensed almost to the point of rage, Snape raised his wand to chest height and with a quick swish of his wand the door in front of him flung wide open, slamming hard into the wall behind it. Snape's initial glee at catching the trespasser unawares was quelled immediately; his expression changing from one of vengeful triumph to that of purest loathing mingled with a fury so intense his face was an unsightly distortion unrecognisable from his normal visage.

"_Potter_!" he spat vehemently. Of all the insipid miscreants that roamed the planet, the very person Snape detested most stood facing him, staring insolently, wand held foolishly and unhelpfully at his side. His previously dissipated bitter glee rapidly returning, Snape wasted no time in cursing Potter off guard. He brought his wand down in a hard, violent swipe. A jet of acid green light sped threateningly towards Harry, who stood dumbfounded. With his wand held limply by his side and no warning of attack, he had no chance of defending himself. Therefore, it was with horror that Snape watched as his spell dissipated before even touching its target. Snape's fury intensified tenfold; he glared at Harry, trying desperately to conceal his astonishment. It was at this precise moment that Snape considered the possibility that he and Potter were not the only two occupants of the room. Immediately concerned he might have unwittingly walked straight into a trap, his eyes flicked around the dusty room, taking in company in the forms of Granger and Weasley. Snape's brain whirred frantically to formulate any kind of plan of action, but before he could blink, all three students had their wands raised pointing at their former teacher. Snape was not a fool. He imagined he could obliterate any one of them alone, but even he couldn't seriously contemplate taking on three nearly qualified wizards. Snape span on his heel and was gone in an instant.

Snape had returned, defeated and disgruntled, to his designated home in Little Hangleton. He felt trapped there, in that house under supervision of the Dark Lord, and in his own mind, riled with resentment, and now with defeat. Snape slunk into the dingy, cold sitting room where the resounding clatter of hail drummed heavily around him, mimicking the relentless thumping in his aching head. He stared unseeingly into the fire as he wallowed in his failure of his own meticulously constructed design.

* * *

Harry lay in bed staring up at the ceiling with his hands crossed behind his head. He had left Ron and Hermione in the drawing room quite some time ago in order to get an early night, but now found it impossible to get to sleep. He had been trying desperately to occlude his mind but it was so full of questions that Harry felt as though someone had cast _muffliato_ on his brain. Harry was disappointed in himself for not practising Occlumency much since his lesson with Professor Tenuit, and their next lesson was in the morning. In Harry's defence, a lot had happened in the past week, so it was no wonder he was having difficulty closing his mind.

The afternoon following Harry's first Legilimency session with Tenuit, Harry, Ron and Hermione had ventured to Hogwarts to destroy the fourth Horcrux. Harry and Ron had also slipped away to the Room of Requirement, where they had enlisted the help of Dobby the house-elf to retrieve Snape's old potion book that Harry had discovered in his sixth year at Hogwarts. When he finally admitted this to Hermione, Harry had expected an eruption, so he began by helping her with the Felix Felicis potion they were brewing. He found her in the kitchen, stirring the potion in a vain effort to encourage it to thicken. Harry sidled up beside her and peered into the potion.

"It's just not getting any thicker," she complained.

"Have you tried Agapanthus pollen?" Harry asked innocently. Hermione gawped at him.

"No I haven't, but that might actually work!" She dove to her faded leather potions bag that lay resting on the floor beside her feet and began to rummage through it. She called up to Harry, "I didn't think of it because it tends to make potions curdle, but the ochu tentacles should counterbalance that particular side-effect and keep it smooth." Hermione resurfaced looking disgruntled. "I don't have any, though. Do you?"

"Nah," Harry shrugged. "I never had any. Don't think Ron has, either – I don't think he's got any potions ingredients, actually."

"Why didn't you mention anything about Agapanthus pollen before?" Hermione inquired of Harry, who looked at his feet before swallowing, shuffling a couple of steps backwards and taking a deep breath before he answered.

"It's in the annotated copy of Advanced Potion-making," he said, choosing his words carefully.

"And you remembered it all this time?" Hermione asked sceptically, her suspicions aroused.

"No," Harry admitted. "I have the book with me." Hermione started and Harry dodged around the kitchen counter to keep himself out of her reach.

"What do you mean, you've got it with you? Is that what you were doing while I was in the library?" Hermione demanded, shrilly.

"Yeah," Harry said, rather glad of the counter between them and the fact that his legs were longer than hers, though confident he could out-hex her if necessary. "You said it might work, though!" Harry reminded her. As Harry watched, Hermione ceased glowering at him, and an expression of mild bemusement decorated her features.

"Well…" she began hesitantly, "it might work."

"Great," Harry said, grinning, aware that although the topic would almost certainly be revisited later, he was momentarily forgiven for retrieving the book that Hermione had insisted was evil.

"But I haven't got any and the apothecary's in Diagon Alley has closed down now, along with everything else," Hermione said gloomily.

"There's always Snape's house," Harry offered.

Therefore, the next afternoon, the three friends set off once again to appropriate additional potions ingredients from Snape's personal store. It was the third time Harry had visited the house where, until fairly recently, Snape had lived when not at Hogwarts. Harry felt uncomfortable whenever he was there, and always had the impression that the house itself was forcibly trying to remove him. When he returned with Ron and Hermione to collect the Agapanthus pollen, Harry wondered whether Snape had perhaps cursed the house so if Harry ever did happen upon it, he would feel unwelcome. It seemed unlikely, yet when Harry pushed open the front door, he felt a chill colder than the harsh January rain beating down on the streets outside. He shivered as he led the way into the dingy sitting room, his friends following straight behind him.

"Okay," Harry said, aware that he was whispering but not sure why. "Let's get this done as quickly as possible. While we're here, is there anything else we can think of that we might need?"

"'Cause I don't feel like coming back here again," Ron whispered.

"Just the Agapanthus pollen, I think." Hermione said louder than the other two had spoken; her voice resounded oddly against the rain spattering the grimy windowpane. Harry nodded his acknowledgement distractedly and looked down at his feet as he felt a sharp breeze around his ankles. He turned back to push the front door closed firmly, and realised that it was already fully shut. Initially disconcerted, Harry turned to the only door leading out of the sitting room, but was sure the breeze had travelled from the other direction. Hermione had noticed that Harry's attention had been distracted. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong but Harry raised a hand to silence her. He needed her to just be quiet for a moment. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated. He had felt that breeze before when he had been in Snape's house – a draught around his ankles. He focussed his attentions more directly on the familiar feeling that he was unwelcome in the house. After a few moments on a silent debate with himself, Harry considered that perhaps the house was keeping a secret from him. The draught played again round his ankles. With his eyes still closed, Harry followed the draught, letting the house unveil its secret by itself.

"Harry, wha-" Ron started, but Harry had already stopped walking and opened his eyes. He was standing in front of what looked like a solid bookshelf, yet there was a breeze coming from under it and a distinct chill emanating from behind it. He could tell that Ron and Hermione were exchanging confused looks behind him.

"There's strong magic behind here," Harry said. He took a step back and raised his wand.

"Harry, no!" Hermione shouted, but Harry was suddenly overcome with a reckless desire to do something spontaneous, something outside his repetitive routine of practising defensive magic so he could one day destroy the Dark Lord. He ignored Hermione, and thought _revelio_, aiming at the bookcase. The strength of the spell caused the shelves to slam forward, scattering most of the books across the floor. Hermione gasped as heavy volumes nearly missed their feet, but Harry was not concentrating on the floor. The bookcase had shifted to reveal a set of narrow wooden steps leading steeply upwards. Overcome by curiosity, Harry put his foot onto the lowest step, which creaked audibly and ominously. Hermione squeaked incoherently from behind him.

"Hermione, get a grip!" Harry said irritably. "It's just a staircase and I have my wand. We could find something to help us. Are you coming or not?" Ron glanced at Hermione before striding over to stand behind Harry. Hermione waved her wand almost absent-mindedly, sending the books back to their rightful positions on the shelves of the ajar bookcase. Reluctantly, she followed behind Ron, constantly glancing over her shoulder as they made their way up the narrow staircase.

At the top of the staircase was a door. Wand aimed high, Harry cautiously pushed open the door. Peering round it, he found the room empty. He stepped slowly and lightly into Snape's secret room. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but not this. The room was quite bare, with no windows and a low ceiling. The floors were miss-matched wooden boards and the walls were chipped plaster. In the corner to the left were two mattresses stacked on top of each other and a blanket folded neatly over them. An old battered suitcase lay beside the makeshift bed, giving the impression that an unexpected guest had been accommodated there. Harry peered round the rest of the room – in the far right corner were several tall wooden cabinets, some with glass doors, other with wooden doors that concealed items within. Near the centre of the room was a small table holding a single candle, burned almost to the bottom.

"This is cheerful," Ron said sarcastically, sidling in beside Harry. Harry grunted his agreement and strode over to the cabinets to take a look. One held several crystal glasses and a few dust-coated bottles of wine; another held several identical old black cloaks.

"Harry, please," Hermione whined from near the door. "We shouldn't be here. Let's just get the pollen and go." Harry turned to retort, but halted himself abruptly when he thought he heard a sound coming from the main house. A quick glance at his friends showed they had heard it too. The front door had opened; someone else was in the building with them. Hermione bit her lower lip and she whispered, "Someone's here. It could be anyone." Harry however, thought he knew exactly who it was, and a prickling in his scar confirmed his suspicions.

"It's Snape," he mouthed to Hermione. He gestured wildly for her and Ron to get back to the edges of the room as he tiptoed soundlessly to the centre of the room to face the door. He saw Ron and Hermione raise their wands from either side of him, and recognised the sensation of the _protego_ charm forming an invisible shield around him. The three of them had discussed and practised this defensive tactic but had never had to use it before. Harry waited with baited breath for his next encounter with Snape, straining his ears for any sound. This time it would not be Harry fleeing for his safety.

With no warning, the door flew open, revealing, as Harry had expected, Severus Snape, his face contorted with anger. "_Potter_!" he spat. Harry just glared back, knowing that neither could cause harm with magic whilst the shield charm remained in place. Snape misinterpreted Harry's lack of reaction as delayed reflexes, undoubtedly due to the shock of seeing his former professor again. Seizing his chance, Snape raised his wand and tried to curse Harry into oblivion. Naturally, because of the shield charm held firmly in place by Ron and Hermione (whom Snape had apparently not noticed yet), Snape's spell dissolved mid-air without causing the slightest harm to Harry. If Harry had not been so overcome with hatred he would have laughed; he only narrowly avoided smirking at the flicker of incredulity on the face of his enemy. However, it was at this moment that Snape realised the presence of Ron and Hermione, who had, in Snape's confusion, left their shield charm to linger and turned to point their wands at him instead. Harry relished the brief moment when Snape saw himself defeated, and watched with bitter satisfaction as he immediately disapparated. The ensuing silence was thick with discomfort.

"Don't worry," Harry said, "We'll get him soon." With that he turned and strode back down the creaky stairs, annoyed that once again Snape had survived a meeting with Harry, yet satisfied that it has been Snape defeated in this instance. Hermione and Ron both eyed Harry wearily all the way through the house to collect the Agapanthus pollen, and only relented when they returned to Grimmauld Place a short while later.

When Harry got back he didn't feel like spending time with Ron and Hermione, who, although defending him admirably, had also irritated him immensely with their glares and shifty glances, as if he were about to do something dangerous. Thrusting the pollen to Hermione, Harry made his way wordlessly to his bedroom. Unwelcoming as it was, his room was quiet and that was all Harry needed right at that moment. He threw himself onto his bed with his face buried in his pillow, reliving his encounter with Snape against his will. It was a moment until Harry realised that his face was pressing into something hard. He shoved a hand forth under his pillow and felt his fingers close around the enchanted notebook. He now remembered that he had placed it there to remind himself to check that Ginny had got to Hogwarts okay for her first day back at school for the new term.

As expected, Ginny had left an entry:

_Harry – I got to Hogwarts fine, everything here seems normal. However, I checked the map today and saw Snape on the lake. I went straight to McGonagall. We could see a boat but no one in it. She told the Aurors around the school to have a look and they think he was disillusioned, because somebody disapparated just as they arrived. I think he couldn't get in through the barrier. I don't know why he was at Hogwarts. Be careful, okay? _

Harry was suddenly very nervous. The Dark Mark barrier was apparently effective in preventing his entry, but what was Snape doing trying to get into Hogwarts? Had that been before or after they had seen Snape at his house? Harry, still preferring solitude, didn't tell Ron and Hermione about the notebook entry until he joined them downstairs for dinner that evening. Their reactions to his news were just as Harry would have predicted.

"What's he doing there?" Ron asked, incensed. Hermione just seemed bewildered.

"He turned up at Hogwarts and his old house in the same day?" she asked, disbelievingly.

"I'd like to turn him into a toad!" Ron growled angrily. Harry half smiled, his thoughts too troubled to allow the notion to fully amuse him.

"Well anyway," Hermione said, "the Agapanthus pollen worked a treat." Harry winced at the irony of Snape helping them in so many ways to destroy him – he had provided both the idea and the ingredient himself, if unconsciously. Hermione, on the other hand, could barely contain her delight that the potion was well on its way to completion, and she continued to lecture them (though she called it reminding) about the specifics of brewing Felix Felicis potion in case they ever had to do it again_. Or in case it happens to come up in our NEWTS_, Harry thought dully.

As Harry lay in bed trying to sleep, he found that his thoughts drifted towards Ginny. Normally Harry would appreciate this distraction, but he couldn't help thinking that perhaps Snape had gone to Hogwarts to try and get to Ginny. Harry's chest felt tight as he rolled over, vowing that he would never let anything happen to her as long as it was in his power to prevent it. He soon fell into an uncomfortable sleep, where he was haunted repeatedly by an assortment of scenarios where Snape had succeeded in kidnapping Ginny.


	14. Chapter 14 Return of the Phoenix

**Chapter 14 – Return of the Phoenix**

Memories swam in blurs and flashes before Harry's eyes. He ignored them, pushing each aside and disregarding it as he searched for the information he wanted. Finally his vision settled on what he had been seeking – a piece of crumpled parchment. He latched onto it with his mind so he could read what the curly handwriting said:

_P.M. Tenuit_

_42 Rowan Crescent._

Harry ended the spell and was surprised, as always, to find himself standing in a tumbledown cottage facing Professor Tenuit.

"Did you find it?" the old wizard asked Harry.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "42 Rowan Crescent, right?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Tenuit, clapping his hands once in celebration. "Well done, Harry. Not bad at all."

"How much resistance were you putting up?" Harry asked, pushing back his hair as he was starting to sweat a little from the effort of performing Legilimency.

"About half of what I could do, I suppose," Tenuit replied. "But I wouldn't worry; you'll get there in no time." This was Harry's sixth Occlumency and Legilimency lesson with professor Tenuit, and he was getting pretty good. "Ready to try again?" Professor Tenuit had prepared several pieces of information and transferred them to memory, such as former residences and people's birthdays, for example. When instructed, Harry would perform Legilimency to locate the information in Tenuit's mind.

"Yeah, let's go again." Harry said, readying himself.

"Okay," Tenuit replied. "Whose birthday is January sixteenth? Whenever you're ready." Harry took a deep breath and focussed his mind. He had been practising the magic both non-verbally and without the requisite wand movements. Tenuit had been astonished at first, though had assured Harry it was not unheard of, and reminded him that Lord Voldemort could perform Legilimency without a wand.

Harry found that sifting through memories was becoming increasingly easy every time he did it, so was ensuring he practise it as often as possible. He searched again through Tenuit's thoughts and memories, often feeling uncomfortable when he came across the professor's dead wife, Ingrid. Harry saw the date January sixteenth and held it in focus with his mind, though he almost lost it when a photograph flew through his vision, containing lots of people who were smiling and waving. He had seen that picture before, he knew it. Why was it in Tenuit's memory? Harry lifted the spell.

"January sixteenth, Cynthia Tobbell," he said, panting a little as he tried to calm his racing heart. The name was familiar, but he couldn't think where he'd heard it before. His thoughts were on the photograph. "S-sir," Harry stuttered over Tenuit's words of praise, "that photograph. That… was that… what was it?" Harry thought he knew what the picture was, but he still couldn't conceive why his parents' wedding photograph with Sirius smiling in the background was buried in Tenuit's memory.

"You're right, Harry," Tenuit sighed. "That photograph was of your parents' wedding."

"But… why? How?" Harry stammered. He didn't like it when pictures of his dead parents and friends were thrust upon him unexpectedly – Moody had done that two years ago with the photograph of the original members of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Cynthia Tobbell," Tenuit said. Harry was exasperated, he knew the birthday question already! Why wasn't Tenuit answering the question about his parents? "Don't you recognise the name?"

"Yes," Harry said, "but…" Then it hit him. Cynthia Tobbell had become Cynthia Evans, his Aunt Petunia's deceased mother. "You knew my grandmother?" Harry asked, completely confused.

"Ingrid did," Tenuit explained. He conjured two comfy armchairs not unlike the chairs Dumbledore had conjured for himself on occasions, and invited Harry to sit with him. "Ingrid was a Muggle, Harry. I met her when I worked in the Muggle Liaison office at the Ministry. Cynthia and she had been best friends for many years already when Ingrid and I married. They had been equally delighted to discover that Lily was a witch, because then they both had magic in the family. Of course, Cynthia died before the wedding, but Ingrid went. She had initially been disappointed – both women hoped that Lily would marry our son, Reuben, and unite our families, but of course Lily fell in love with your father. Reuben died shortly before they did." Tenuit sighed heavily. "Forgive me for not mentioning it before, Harry, but I wasn't sure how to breach the subject." Harry glanced at Tenuit, who did look sorry, not to mention a little miserable.

"It's okay," Harry said, his voice sounding hollow and distant. The silence they now sat in was thick and tense, rather than the comfortable atmosphere to which the two wizards had become accustomed when in each other's company. "Erm," Harry said uncertainly, trying to alleviate some tension. "Did your son, did Reuben ever get married?"

"No, Harry," Tenuit smiled. They sat in an uneasy silence for several more minutes. Harry, yet again, was brooding on how much destruction one being could cause, how many lives he could ruin. He stood suddenly, determination pulsing through him like fire.

"Right," he said abruptly. "Let's go again, shall we?"

* * *

Harry returned to Grimmauld Place nearly an hour later than he had anticipated. Hermione ran straight to him. "Harry, where have you been? You said you'd be back ages ago!"

"Sorry," Harry said, sinking into the nearest chair; his legs were quivering uncomfortably; he felt exhausted.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, suddenly anxious.

"Fine," Harry assured her, "just a bit worn out. I've been working hard." Hermione nodded in understanding. "Hey, where's Ron?" Harry asked, guessing that Ron was out because the house seemed far too quiet for his best friend's presence.

"He's gone to look at some more goblets," Hermione said, handing Harry a mug of her exquisite hot chocolate. "Just one more Horcrux to find," she said cheerfully. Harry groaned into his steaming mug. "And the Felix Felicis potion is maturing now, we don't need to add anything to it until April." Harry, only half listening, closed his eyes and let his head roll back to rest on the top of the chair. "Harry, are you sure you're alright?" Hermione persisted. "There's another Order meeting in a couple of hours. Maybe you should go get some rest." Harry nodded and heaved his tired body upstairs to bed. He barely had time to remove his glasses before falling asleep.

He awoke about ninety minutes later to Ron handing him a tray with tea and toast on it. "Hermione said eat it, so just eat it, okay?" Ron said, grinning. Harry shoved his glasses back on – he had fallen asleep fully clothed on top of the covers. He turned to the tray and brought the cup of tea to his lips. "Order meeting, ten minutes." Ron said. "You coming?" Harry nodded silently. His head was still aching from the extra effort he had put into his Legilimency session that morning. He wasn't looking forward to the Order meeting, but felt he really ought to attend. "Right, then," Ron said, heading back over to the door. "See you down there." Harry watched Ron leave, and then turned his attention back to the tea and toast. He was suddenly hungry, and he knew he could not eat again until after the meeting had finished.

Nearly quarter of an hour later, Harry ambled into the dusty dining room to find several members of the Order already assembled. There seemed to be more excitement in the room than usual, and Harry wondered what had happened. He didn't have to wait too long to find out. All heads turned to Harry as his presence was realized, and Molly Weasley rushed straight to him and hugged him tight. Harry was a little unnerved to say the least. "Come with me, Harry, we'll join the meeting in a moment," she said. Casting a very confused look towards Ron and Hermione, who both shrugged, Harry allowed himself to be pulled by Mrs Weasley into the adjacent room. "How are you, Harry dear?" she asked, having shut the door behind her.

"Not bad," Harry replied. "What's up?"

"It's to do with Dumbledore's will, Harry," Molly said gently. Harry tried not to look too surprised. "There were some complications with it, apparently, though if you ask me the Ministry were just trying to make things difficult… but anyway, it's all been sorted out now. He left you quite a lot, Harry," Mrs Weasley smiled comfortingly. Harry didn't notice that his jaw had dropped in amazement.

"Me?" he asked incredulously. Molly laughed.

"Yes, you, dear. He only has one living relative, his brother Aberforth. Though if I'm honest, I think he considered you to be family, perhaps even more so than… well, anyway," she muttered, still smiling, but now with a bit of a sad look in her eyes. Harry was trying desperately not to fidget. Dumbledore had left him something? Not money, surely, Dumbledore had known that Harry had more than enough of that. Only politeness kept Harry's inquisition at bay while he waited a bit impatiently for Mrs Weasley to get to the point. She reached to a pocket on the inside of her robes and withdrew a smooth, rectangular envelope. She handed it to him with the words, "No-one else could open this. I thought you might want to read it on your own before people start bombarding you with questions." Harry peered blankly down at the envelope. In familiar, slanted handwriting, the words _Harry Potter _had been written in smart purple ink. Harry numbly reached out and took the envelope in his hands. He turned it over and lifted the seal without hesitation. "I'll leave you to it, dear," Molly said, and she retreated from the room to join the rest of the Order.

Harry's fingers were trembling slightly as he took two sheets of lightweight parchment from the envelope and unfolded them. Each page was covered with neat purple lines of Dumbledore's handwriting. Harry's heart skipped a beat as he began to read.

_Dear Harry, _

_I'm very sorry that you are reading this, as it means I am no longer among the living. I wished that I could have been around to support you to the end, but there must come a time for all of us. However, I hope that even now I may be able to offer you help and guidance._

_Before I detail methods of my intended assistance, I will first explain to you my last will and testimony. The gold that I had accumulated is not substantial, yet what remains has been assigned to good causes. I confess that I believed you to have enough funding to support you quite comfortably, and I know you will not be disappointed to learn you have not inherited any of my assets. There is, however, a small property of little value to anyone but myself, yet anticipating your current situation, I would assume that you would be able to make good use of it. Lilac Cottage is situated in the charming town of Norby in the Shetland Isles. It is where I resided when not at my first home: Hogwarts castle. You will, perhaps, find it a bit basic, but comfortable nonetheless. You are now the legal owner of both Lilac Cottage and the home of your godfather. _

_Furthermore, when I re-wrote my will fairly recently, Fawkes expressed a wish for you to be his new master when I passed away. Simply call for him when you need him; I'm sure you'll find in Fawkes a loyal and helpful pet and friend._

_Finally, then, to the means by which I might assist you in your terrible quest. My brother, Aberforth, has consented to answer any questions you may have and help you when he can. Similarly, you will find that a portrait of me has now appeared in the head teacher's office at Hogwarts. This is not me, merely a reflection, if you will, of my persona in life. Nevertheless, if you require my opinion on any subject matter, I am sure my framed shadow will be more than happy to oblige you. Lastly, I leave to you my pensieve. You will undoubtedly find it useful in your mission, and I have left therein the memories we viewed together should you wish to revisit them._

_All that remains for me to do is wish you the very best of luck, and remind you that help will always be given to those who ask for it. I am eternally glad to have had the privilege of knowing you, Harry._

_Your eternal servant, Albus Dumbledore._

Harry read the letter through twice, torn internally by the upsurge of grief at reliving his mentor's death once again, and utter elation at his inheritance of Dumbledore's house, his phoenix, and his pensieve. Vaguely aware that the meeting would have started without him, Harry stowed the letter in his pocket for later perusal, wiped dry his eyes (which, to Harry's surprise, seemed to have become particularly moist) and allowed his legs to lead him back into the dining room.

Once again, all heads turned to Harry as he entered, but he ignored them and squashed himself in between Hermione and George. "What did I miss?" he whispered to Hermione.

"Moody was just telling us about Snape trying to get into Hogwarts last week," she whispered back. "Where've you been?"

"I'll explain later," Harry replied, absent-mindedly playing with the locket around his neck. His thoughts were still on the letter, but he was dimly aware that Moody was talking once again about the diminishing numbers of Healers at St Mungo's.

"Some of them have mysteriously disappeared, some have been found dead, and the rest of them are, understandably, reluctant to even go into work," Moody growled. He then explained that the Order were working to establish many 'shelters', where injured witches and wizards could go to be treated by those who'd been training with Betina Briarthorn, seeing as staff at St Mungo's were rapidly depleting. The Ministry was tying to organise something similar, but it was common assumption that there were Death Eater spies working at the Ministry. Therefore Voldemort would soon be aware of the Ministry organised healing shelters, yet he would not know about the Order shelters. "If anyone has any suggestions, please see either myself or Miss Briarthorn." Taking a quick breath, Moody continued loudly, "Now. You may have realised, that as yet there has been very little commotion from the Death Eaters, which I think is luring people into a false sense of security. So few deaths in the past few months, very little in the way of destruction that You Know Who caused as recently as last summer. In my personal opinion, we are experiencing what is known as the calm before the storm. Dementor attacks are still on the increase, but no real damage has been done. Unfortunately, we are still completely clueless about any plans he might have, so what we really need to work on is what exactly the bastard is up to." Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise at Moody's language; he had never heard him swear before. However, he was unsettled by Mad-Eye's interpretation of the lack of Dark activity. Now Harry thought about it, in the summer before his fifth year, Voldemort had used giants, had collapsed a Muggle bridge, and had killed several important Ministry officials, not to mention countless other Death Eater attacks… and now nothing. Just lots of Dementors and a few threatened Healers. Harry thought Moody was right: it certainly seemed that Voldemort was trying to lure them all into a false sense of security and was going to cause maximum mayhem when they were least expecting it.

"On a more positive note," Moody barked, making Harry jump, "we have received a hint that Filius Flitwick is being held near Bristol. We need a small team to investigate this claim, and if it turns out to be true, we will need a follow-up rescue party."

Harry peered around the table as people offered their services to the Order. He felt a bit like a coward, sitting there quietly, not able to volunteer for any such thing. He guessed this was why people had tried to keep him out of the Order before. A party of four, Bill Weasley among them, had volunteered to go to Bristol in search of Flitwick. A follow-up rescue party formed as a precaution, and then yet more people were assigned to investigate possible Death Eater sightings. Fred and George volunteered for this, despite Mrs Weasley's abhorrence of the idea. Arthur supported the notion that the twins were more than adequately equipped to look out possible Death Eaters hideouts without getting themselves into trouble. As Fred and George were assigned a Death Eater by the name of Gravus McDonald, Harry felt Ron tense next to him, and understood his concern. Harry thought that nobody who knew the twins would want them to come to any harm.

Eventually, the meeting drew to a close. Harry held his still aching head as he, Ron and Hermione waited for people to depart around them. Harry could feel Moody's magical eye watching him; he wished he had somewhere else to go so he didn't have to stay and face Mad-eye. He wanted to go back to his room and read Dumbledore's letter again, perhaps discuss it with Ron and Hermione. He certainly wasn't in the mood to talk with the scarred, paranoid ex-auror. Still, Harry had no choice but to stay seated until everyone else had left, so he reluctantly awaited Moody's arrival, which was announced by a growling behind his right ear. "A chat, Potter, if you don't mind." Sighing inwardly, Harry heaved himself up from his seat and followed Moody round to the far end of the table, away from the retreating crowd of people jostling towards the front door. Harry turned and was greeted by both of Moody's miss-matched eyes staring straight into his.

"Dumbledore left you his bird," Moody said abruptly.

"Yes," Harry said, "I know."

"That bird can be useful to the Order if you want it to be," Moody said. Harry looked at him confused so Mad-eye elaborated. "That's how we used to send messages to each other. When you're in trouble, call for Fawkes, and he'll come to you bringing help." Moody said. "Damn clever bird," he added to no one in particular. Harry still looked sceptical, so Moody gave him a lop-sided grin, which made his scarred face look positively alarming. "Go on, call the bird to you."

Harry hesitated, then said "Fawkes." His voice was quieter than he would have expected it to be. With a sudden burst of flames, a great red and gold bird the size of a swan appeared on the table before them. Harry leapt back and Ron, who was sitting further down the table, fell backwards off his chair in shock. Tentatively, Harry reached out a hand to stroke Fawkes' soft feathered head.

"Hi, Fawkes" Harry said. "I'm your new owner now, but I'd prefer it if we could just be friends." Fawkes bowed his head and blinked in an understanding sort of way. "Fawkes has saved me loads, already," Harry told Moody. "He blinded the Basilisk, stopped its poison from killing me, helped me fly out of the Chamber of Secrets, protected Dumbledore at the Ministry…" Harry could feel his eyes welling with tears for the second time that evening. He blinked them back and continued to stroke the bird, which cooed softly as if in tune to Harry's emotions. "Do you want to stay here, Fawkes?" Harry asked. "This could be your home for a while, if you'd like." Fawkes bowed his head again. Then with an enormous rush of feathers, the phoenix took off and landed again on the back of an ornately carved and ugly chair. Harry watched in awe as the bird settled onto his new perch. He was only brought back to the moment as Moody cleared his throat.

"Have you visited the Malfoys recently?" Harry felt his stomach drop. He had forgotten his promise to check up on the Malfoys in that shack in the sea, and had consequently not been back since discovering them nearly three months ago. Harry shook his head but kept Moody's gaze.

"I had planned on going tomorrow morning," Harry lied.

"See to it that you do." Moody said. Apparently satisfied, he turned and clumped into the hall. Harry resumed his seat next to Hermione and waited for everyone to leave.

When the house was empty once again, Ron nudged Harry and sat down beside him. "So Dumbledore gave you a letter? What did it say?" Harry retrieved the envelope from his pocket and read the letter aloud to them. Both Ron and Hermione sat in a stunned silence; Fawkes crowed near the corner of the room.

"He left you his house?" Hermione breathed.

"Yeah," Harry said, still a bit shocked by the whole affair. "And Fawkes, and the pensieve."

"You were his favourite person," Ron said, admiringly.

As he peered down at the letter, his final correspondence with Dumbledore, Harry felt a violent hatred for Voldemort fill him entirely. "I have to kill him," Harry said for the thousandth time, his voice now louder than he had planned. "On top of everything else, Dumbledore did all this work to make it easier for me to do it." He dropped his head so it bounced painfully off the dining table. At least the pain was a distraction from his thoughts of killing Voldemort as viciously as possible.

Hermione draped her arm tenderly around his shoulders. Harry jumped at her touch but welcomed it just the same. "It's okay, Harry," she reassured him, "we're going to do it. Together." Harry groaned.

"Yeah," Ron agreed fervently. "I've only got five more goblets left to check now, so that's either very good news or very bad news."

Harry lifted his head a few inches from the table. "One more Horcrux…." He said. "One more to find, then I kill the snake, then I kill her master." He let his head drop again and the other two exchanged worried glances over his shoulders.

"Then it'll all be over," Hermione said soothingly. Harry closed his eyes and tried to imagine a life without Voldemort. He couldn't do it.


	15. Chapter 15 Bad News

**Chapter 15 – Bad News**

Harry awoke for about the fourth time that morning, and was highly disappointed to discover that it was still dark. Groaning, he groped for his wand and cast _lumos_ at his watch, which read 4:54. Harry groaned again and flopped back down into his pillows. For some reason, despite the fact that he had been exhausted the previous day, he had not been able to sleep for more than an hour at a time all night so far. Fed up and agitated, Harry pushed back the blankets and got dressed. He pulled on extra layers for warmth as he decided to keep his promise to Moody and to check on Draco and Narcissa Malfoy. Before five o'clock, Harry had already seized his broom and cloak and had apparated out of Grimmauld Place.

Harry reappeared amongst of small clump of leafless trees vaguely near the shore. It was a few moments before Harry's eyes adjusted to the surrounding darkness of the bitterly cold January morning, despite the luminous glow from the full moon floating in the inky, cloud-scattered sky. Checking that he had not been seen, Harry disillusioned himself and threw his cloak on once more as he mounted his Firebolt. In seconds Harry was up in the air again, all his worries from yesterday felt as though they were being swept away by the rush of cold that jostled Harry as he ascended over the waves. Before long, however, Harry was freezing as he searched unseeingly over rolling waves for the tumbledown hut where Malfoy was hiding. Icy spray lashed around Harry's ankles as he flew lower, the better to feel the spells that concealed the building. When he felt he was in the right place, Harry retrieved his wand, casting _revelio_. The ugly shack flickered momentarily into sight before disappearing as completely as if it had never been there. Harry grinned to himself and flew to the same spot, just below the window, before casting _interio sonorus_ non-verbally. Immediately he could hear two familiar voices as loudly and clearly as if he were in the room with them.

"It's that bloody alarm again!" Draco shouted. "It's faulty, there's no one here!" he roared.

"Draco, quiet!" his mother snapped. "Just because you can't see anyone it doesn't mean they're not there." This was followed by an uncomfortable silence, during which Harry sank lower on his broom to avoid detection.

"There's nobody here," Draco said defiantly. "I'm going back to sleep. You'd better hope I'm not woken by another false alarm," he grumbled. Satisfied, and mildly amused that he had woken them up, Harry flew back in the still dark sky to the collection of dead-looking trees, from whence he disapparated back to Grimmauld Place.

Harry arrived back in the entrance hall with a faint _pop_ a little before six a.m. It was no lighter than it had been when he left, and the house still settled in a sleepy silence. Wide awake from his excursion, Harry turned on his heel to head to the room upstairs for some early morning spell practise. He'd taken two steps towards the stairs when a loud banging from behind him made him turn suddenly back round, wand at the ready. The banging sounded again, and it was a moment before Harry realised it was someone pounding on the front door. Hurrying towards it, Harry peered through the spy hole set in the shabby front door and found himself looking at a distorted and completely dishevelled Remus Lupin. Harry didn't hesitate to open the door, stepping back in alarm as Lupin fell over the threshold and lay quivering on the floor. "Lupin!" Harry cried. Hastily he shut the front door and knelt down to Lupin's side. "What's wrong?" The older wizard was shaking gently all over, his breathing rapid and shallow. His clothes were tattered and torn, and his face and hands held a rusty red coating that Harry was pretty sure was blood. Lupin groaned and turned his head to look into very anxious green eyes.

"Harry?" Lupin asked in a disbelieving whisper.

"What happened?" Harry asked, suddenly very aware that it was full moon, and instantly fighting the overwhelming desire to run away as fast as he could. He had encountered Lupin as a werewolf once before, and it wasn't an experience he wished to repeat. Then it occurred to him that if Lupin wasn't a werewolf now, it was probable that he wouldn't transform again now that it was morning, even though it was still dark. In this time Lupin had managed to push himself into a sitting position, though slumped heavily against the wall.

"Rough night," Lupin muttered, avoiding Harry's gaze. Harry noticed his skin was deathly white under the patches of dried blood. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here now," Harry said, not caring right at that moment that it was supposed to be a secret. Lupin suddenly shook alarmingly and Harry thought he might vomit, so hastily shuffled to Lupin's side, as opposed to sitting in front of him. "That's not important, you need help!" As Harry made to stand, Lupin grasped the front of his robe and pulled Harry's face close to his.

"You have to alert the Order," Lupin croaked desperately. "Massive werewolf attacks last night, people need to be warned, need to be cared for." Then Lupin did vomit down the front of his ripped tunic. Harry, his face now as white as Lupin's, understood. He leapt up and poked his head into the dining room. His attention immediately settled on a large bird nesting on its ugly wooden perch.

"Fawkes! There's been trouble. Alert the Order and get as many people here as possible!" Fawkes outstretched his wings with a soft crooning noise, and then vanished in a burst of flames. Withdrawing his head, Harry called for his house-elf. Kreacher appeared before him, blurry-eyed and swathed in a disgustingly dirty tea towel, with a loud crack. "Kreacher, go and wake Ron and Hermione, then put the kettle on. Do nothing else," Harry commanded. Kreacher glared at him furiously before stomping noisily up the stairs, muttering curses under his breath. Harry looked back to Lupin and cast _Tergeo_, cleaning his clothes as best as could be managed. He knelt back down beside him. "Is there anything I can do for you?" Harry asked gently but determinedly. Lupin shuddered again.

"If you have any Palma infusion I could drink some," Lupin said weakly. Harry frowned. He didn't have any Palma infusion, but it was a pretty simple potion and he thought he could have in ready in about twenty minutes. Heavy footsteps approaching caused both Harry and Lupin to look up.

"Never get Kreacher to wake me up again!" Ron cried irritably as he traipsed noisily down the stairs. Harry spared him a glance - he still had sleep in the corner of his left eye and his hair could easily pass as a bird nest. Ron's manner lightened somewhat as he saw Lupin in the hall, looking decidedly worse for wear. Ron jumped the last few steps and gawped at Harry. "What happened?" he asked, bewildered. Harry decided to ignore this question.

"Just keep an eye on him. I'm going to make some Palma infusion," Harry said, and sprinted down into the kitchens, where Kreacher was scowling in the corner having just refilled the kettle. Paying the house-elf no attention, Harry grabbed Hermione's black potions bag from next to the cauldron brewing the Felix Felicis potion and, with no other cauldron available, took the large copper pot Mrs Weasley had often used to make soup. Harry sorted hastily through the ingredients, surprising himself by not only remembering all the correct ingredients, but also the annotations made in Snape's old potions book that would help the potion to brew faster. Harry carefully added the requisite roots, herbs and newts eyes to the soup pot over a small fire he had conjured. As he added just a splash of rosewater (to prevent the potion from bubbling when it reached the drinker's stomach), Hermione hurtled into the kitchen, fully dressed but bushy-haired and waspish.

"Ron said you were brewing Palma infusion so I came to check you were okay," she said in a harsh, brisk voice that clearly indicated to Harry that she doubted his potion making abilities.

"It's alright, Hermione," Harry said, keeping his voice level, "the potion's nearly ready. Check it if you want." Abandoning all pretence, Hermione strolled to the pot and peered at the translucent green liquid contained within. She sniffed it and gave it a stir, then took up a spoon and helped herself to a bit.

"Not bad," she concluded. "Best get some to him, then!" she snapped, and headed over to collect the tea. Making a mental note never to wake Hermione by house-elf again (he assumed that was what had put her in a bad mood), Harry scooped the potion into a large silver tankard and hurried back upstairs to the hall.

However, the hall was empty, so Harry continued into the dining room where Ron was standing over Lupin, who was now seated in one of the more comfortable armchairs near the back of the room. "Here," Harry said, thrusting the vessel into Lupin's hands. "Palma infusion as requested." As Lupin brought the cup to his lips, a loud ringing sounded from the hallway, shortly followed by the shrill screams and curses bellowed by the portrait of old Mrs Black.

Harry hurried out into the hallway and hauled open the front door again to Tonks, Arthur Weasley, and a tall old wizard Harry barely saw as Tonks and Mr Weasley descended on him with questions, shouted so they could be heard over the shrieking portrait.

"Harry! What's happened?" asked a pale-faced Tonks.

"Half bloods, Mudbloods, WEREWOLVES!" shrieked Mrs Black.

"Lupin's in there," Harry yelled back, gesturing wildly into the dining room as Ron came sprinting out, nearly bumping into Hermione who was levitating a tray laden with tea to the dining room, and ran to the portrait, attempting to yank the curtains closed.

"Harry, the phoenix. What's wrong?" Arthur shouted, grasping Harry's shoulder to get his attention.

"Something with werewolves attacking," Harry replied loudly. "I don't know, Lupin said to get help."

"It shan't be borne, such filth in the noble House of Black!" Mrs Black thundered.

Arthur let go of Harry's arm and ran to help Ron with the curtains. It was then that Harry's eyes met those of the other wizard who'd arrived. Harry's stomach plummeted horribly and he did a very obvious double take as he found himself staring straight into very familiar blue twinkling eyes. He brain was working furiously fast, having a very rapid silent argument.

_Those are Dumbledore's eyes._

Dumbledore's dead.

_I know, but he even looks like him._

He looks more like the barman at the Hog's Head.

_That's it! He's the barman at the Hog's Head!_

So what's he doing here?

_I don't know._

Hey, I've seen him somewhere else, too.

_Where?_

That photograph Moody showed me ages ago, of the original members of the Order of the Phoenix.

_Ah. So he would be…?_

Dumbledore's brother.

_Aberforth. _

Harry felt his brain stop whirring and click into place. He extended his hand to the tall wizard in the doorway. "Harry Potter," he introduced himself.

"I know who you are," Dumbledore's brother replied grimly, in a raspy voice. He took Harry's hand and shook it anyway. "Aberforth Dumbledore," he confirmed. Harry stood for half a second, not knowing what to say as his hand dropped limply back to his side.

He was saved from certain awkwardness by the imminent arrival of three more members of the Order: Elphias Doge, Hestia Jones and Mad-eye Moody. The latter hobbled directly to Harry and murmured, "Damn useful bird, eh?" before leading the others through to the dining room. Ron and Arthur had finally managed to pull the curtains closed and were now panting from their exertions.

"Go on in, you two," Mr Weasley said, breathing heavily. "I'll stay out here in case anyone else comes."

"But –"

"No, Harry, I said I'd stay here. You and Ron go to the meeting." Harry looked to Ron, who shrugged and headed towards the dining room.

"Thanks, Mr Weasley," Harry said as he followed Ron, who was still in his pyjamas, though he had now thrown his maroon house cloak on over the top. Once again, everyone had turned to look at Harry as he entered. He was used to this reaction though, and ignored it, making his way directly over to Lupin. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lupin held up a hand to quiet him.

"I'm fine, Harry, really." He tried a smile, but it didn't work very well. He gave up and sighed. "Sit down so I can tell you what happened." Harry obeyed, accepting a mug of tea from Hermione as he and the others assembled took their seats at the table. Harry listened with mounting horror as Lupin told them that the group of werewolves he'd been living with, led by Fenrir Greyback, had instigated a mass killing spree during the night. Lupin had tried, as usual, to takes his Wolfsbane potion, but the others had replaced it with a mild poison, which was harmless except that Lupin was sick for hours. Thankfully, Lupin was able to take some real Wolfsbane before he transformed, so he was able to keep his own mind. He tried to leave, but ran into Greyback, fully transformed. Lupin said that the other werewolf had sensed a traitor and tried to kill him. Lupin managed to get away with only a few light wounds, but he feared that a lot of people had been bitten last night, perhaps even killed. He thought that people might be in need of medical attention, particularly with St Mungo's near enough closing down with lack of Healers.

As Lupin finished talking, a sort of stupefied silence settled over everyone in the room, which lifted a few long seconds later with the arrival of the team who had gone out to look for Flitwick: Bill Weasley, the small wizard with the squeaky voice, Dedalus Diggle, and two other wizards that Harry had not spoken to, but he knew them to be Maroc Khalil and Alan Elms. "We were on our way back when we got Fawkes' signal," Bill said. He glanced round the quiet room. "Is everything okay?"

Moody stood up and addressed them in his rasping voice. "Werewolf attacks. We'll sort that out in a moment. No sign of Flitwick, then?"

"No," Bill said; the disappointment was evident on his face. "We searched thoroughly, there's no sign of him in Bristol. There was a Dementor attack while we were there but nothing else worth mentioning."

Moody nodded sharply. "Back to these werewolves then." He turned to Lupin. "Can you direct us to the places they went?"

"I'll certainly try," Lupin replied, his voice now much stronger than when he arrived.

"Has anyone here been trained as a Healer?" Moody enquired. Hestia Jones and Maroc Khalil said they had, and volunteered to go with Lupin to help any casualties. "Arthur!" Mad-Eye barked, making Harry jumped. Mr Weasley stepped from the hallway into the room.

"Yes, Alastor?"

"Arthur can you let the Ministry know? Anonymously, if possible." Mad-Eye growled. Mr Weasley nodded and after saying a brief farewell to his sons, left for work. Tonks said that as she didn't have to be in work for a while, she would accompany Lupin, too. As the recovery group got ready to leave, the other Order members who had responded to Fawkes's message disbanded, Moody's eyes (both of them) met Harry's.

"We'll stay here in case any one else comes," Harry offered.

"Good thinking, Potter," growled Moody. Tonks hugged each of Harry, Ron and Hermione before chivvying Lupin out after the others. Harry followed them into the hall to lock the door. When he returned to the living room, Ron and Hermione were seated at the table, nursing mugs of hot tea (obviously the result of a heating charm as the tea was cold when Harry left just moments before).

"Bad news all round then," Harry said, as he pulled a chair from the dining table and sat opposite them.

"It's just horrible," Hermione said. "Imagine werewolves _planning_ something like this! Poor Lupin."

"I don't think he'll be living with them, anymore, somehow," Ron said.

"No," Harry agreed. "I must remember to tell him that his house might not be safe anymore," Harry said, feeling guilty. "Still, if he can't go back, he could always stay here, right?" Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement. "I've got to write to Ginny," Harry said, "to keep her updated. I hope everyone at Hogwarts is okay." Heaving himself back up from the table, Harry strode up to his bedroom and took the notebook from its new hiding place at the bottom of the ancient chest at the end of his bed. He found out a quill and opened the notebook to enter his message. However, as he looked down, Harry could see that Ginny left an entry the previous night that he hadn't yet read.

* * *

Ginny was once again lying awake in her otherwise empty Gryffindor dormitory, reliving last night's DA, held in the Great Hall. It had been the first meeting back since the Christmas break, and had the highest student attendance so far. It had been a particularly unusual meeting, not least because a couple of third years, several fourth years, and everyone above had successfully produced a patronus. The especially remarkable event had been just after the meeting, when almost all the students had left for their common rooms. Ginny, Neville and Luna had gathered together near the doors and were chattering excitedly, congratulating one another on what had indisputably been the best meeting so far that year, when an unfamiliar girl with deep set eyes, high cheekbones and choppy black hair shuffled timidly up to them. This DA meeting had been her first. As she approached, Neville whispered, "She's a Slytherin in my year, she came in this meeting with that Millicent Bulstrode." His voice betrayed his deep mistrust of all Slytherins, but he smiled at her when she approached.

"Hi, Neville, isn't it?" she asked, without showing any real interest. Before he could answer, "I want to talk to Ginny," said the girl. Her voice was small but determined, and Ginny thought she could detect a hint of fear. Ginny nodded and indicated with her head that the Slytherin girl follow her away from Neville and Luna, who waved goodnight and began the ascent to their respective common rooms.

"Sorry," Ginny said, "I don't know you."

"It doesn't matter," the girl said, her voice very quiet and suddenly very urgent, her eyes darting quickly and warily around the room to check that no-one was listening in. "I overheard a conversation. During the Christmas break. I know I shouldn't say anything, but…" she shuddered and glanced over her shoulder before continuing, never meeting Ginny's eyes. "The Death Eaters have Flitwick. I know where they're holding him." Ginny blinked. She certainly hadn't been expecting that. The dark-haired girl looked at her suddenly pleading. "Ginny, you have to tell someone, but you can't say that you heard it from me." The girl was still shifting her glances everywhere, her eyes wide with fear.

"Don't worry," Ginny said. "I'll see to it, I won't tell anyone, I promise."

Following the conversation, Ginny had come straight up to her room and written directly to Harry in the notebook. Lying in her bed now, she rolled over and retrieved the notebook from under her mattress. She rifled through the pages only to discover that there was still no reply. Ginny was quite anxious, but it had only been a few hours, after all. She would put off telling McGonagall until several days had passed with no response from Harry, as the headmistress would undoubtedly press Ginny for the source of the information, which Ginny knew that Harry wouldn't do.

* * *

Harry ran back downstairs with the notebook clutched in his hand. He headed straight back into the dining room, and was greeted with a sight that nearly made him turn around and walk straight back out again. Instead he stood stunned, unable to look away. He knew, of course, that Hermione was Ron's girlfriend, but he had never thought about them kissing. Hermione suddenly looked up and Harry felt as though he would rather be anyone else, anywhere else right at that moment; Ron looked as though he felt the same way, but Hermione was utterly unperturbed. "Is something the matter, Harry?" she asked.

It took a split second for Harry to realise she wasn't referring to Harry having just walked in to see his two best friends sitting on a sofa, kissing. "The notebook," Harry said, after only a moment's hesitation. "Ginny left a message. Here." For some reason Harry didn't want to go any closer, so he tossed the notebook across the room. Hermione caught it, flicked it open and read aloud.

"'_Harry, I found out where Flitwick is. I can't tell you how, but I'm pretty sure it's genuine. It didn't seem like a trap. Anyway, he's being kept at the big old house on Friar Lane in Harpenden. Voldemort's been using him to create some sort of Inferius army. Be careful with this, Harry. Don't let anyone know you found this out from Hogwarts. Much love, Ginny._'"Ron looked appalled, Hermione aghast. "That's horrible! Kidnapping Flitwick and forcing him to make an army of dead bodies!" Hermione's voice was shrill and upset – Harry knew that Professor Flitwick had always been one of Hermione's favourite teachers, and she was one of his favourite pupils.

Before either Harry or Ron could offer any words of comfort, however, they were distracted by a sharp tapping on the grimy window. Harry turned to see a wind-swept barn owl with the _Daily Prophet_ clutched in its talons. He hurried over to open the window and take the paper. Relieved of its burden, the owl turned immediately and swooped out of sight into the misty sunrise. Harry knew that Hermione liked to read the paper first, so wordlessly he crossed back to the sofa and passed the Prophet over to her in exchange for his notebook. Hermione had barely scanned the front page before she uttered a sharp "On no!" Ron twitched involuntarily in his seat next to her.

"What?" Harry said quickly, unsure whether he could bare any more bad news.

"'_Ministry Auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was viciously attacked last night whilst effecting undercover work for the Ministry of Magic_,'" Hermione read aloud. "He's working for the Muggle Prime Minister, remember?"

"Is he okay?" Ron asked.

"It doesn't say…" Hermione seemed to be reading the article at super speed. "'_Shacklebolt is currently receiving treatment at St Mungo's. Healers say it is difficult to be sure, but they believe he will, in time, make a full recovery,_'" she recited. "Ministry officials say they now fear that the Muggle Prime Minister may be under You-Know-Who's control." Hermione looked up at them both in desperation. Ron cleared his throat but seemed unable to voice the disturbance evident on his face. Harry was similarly speechless: he felt defeated.


	16. Chapter 16 Insequoran

**Chapter 16 - Insequoran**

If anyone had been there to witness the duel ensuing in the empty room upstairs in Grimmauld Place, they would have assumed the young witch and wizard were mortal enemies; their wands were moving so fast they appeared as blurs, and the only sounds issuing from their lips were occasional grunts of effort. In fact, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were merely practising their spell work, in what Hermione called a 'carefully controlled but realistic environment'. This involved sealing the room from the inside so that no-one could enter and risk getting hit by a curse, setting a time shield so they could only duel for a previously set amount of time, and, most importantly, a ban on any magic that Hermione deemed to be either dark or dangerous – namely the unforgivable curses and anything that may have been invented by the so-called Half Blood Prince. Harry had got himself into a comfortable pattern of curse, block, then eliminate Hermione's block, followed by another curse. The only problem with these rehearsed duels was that they'd now gotten so good at duelling each other that there was very little variety in their battling.

Just as Hermione's thermal shield dispelled Harry's freezing charm, a loud, high buzzing sounded and the air vibrated with a faint pink haze. Harry lifted his wand and stumbled backwards a couple of paces as the time keeping charm lifted, signalling the end of their duel. As Harry looked over to Hermione, she was breathing even more heavily than he was, her hair bushy and her brow damp.

"We have got," she said, between breaths, "to get Ron doing this."

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked, leaning forward with his hands resting on his knees while he got his breath back. "I thought you practise with Ron while I'm having Legilimency lessons."

"I do," Hermione replied mopping her brow, "but neither of us are up to your standard, Harry. Your magic is unbelievable!"

"I think my herbology skills are suffering, though." Far from being flattered by Hermione's compliments, Harry couldn't help thinking that his chances of becoming an Auror were, ironically, slipping away. Even if, as Hermione thought possible, Harry had managed to defeat Voldemort before the school year was up, there was little chance that Harry would pass his NEWT examinations to a satisfactory standard.

"Your herbology skills?" Hermione asked incredulously, but being cleverer than most, she understood what he meant. "Oh, you want good grades for Auror training," she concluded correctly. "Well don't worry, Harry. You don't have to take NEWTs this year at all, you know. You could always complete your final year at Hogwarts at a later stage, I'm sure McGonagall would be glad to have you back."

She was right, Harry knew, but there was something unappealing about having to retake – or take for the first time, even - his seventh year. It would be like repeating a year, or being held back a year, which would just be humiliating. Then again, he would be able to share classes with Ginny. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

A heavy knocking sounding from downstairs indicated Ron's return. He had been out investigating the final five goblets he and Hermione had short-listed as possibly bearing the mark of Helga Hufflepuff, therefore likely to be a Horcrux. Harry had eagerly been anticipating Ron's arrival, which, as Ron had said himself, would either bring very good news or very bad news. Harry sprinted out of the practise room and down the rickety staircase, Hermione hot on his heels.

"Password?" Harry yelled through the door.

"Hufflepuff!" Ron shouted – they had agreed on using a different password for every visit, so it didn't matter if Ron was overheard.

At hearing the correct password, Harry pulled the door open and Ron hurried inside. Ron wasted no time in telling them his news. "No good. Any of them," he said dejectedly. Harry noticed Hermione's face fall, but he himself had tried not to keep his hopes up anyway. He always knew that the chance of them finding a Horcrux in a Muggle museum was pretty slim, but it was the only idea they'd had, so it was what they'd had to use.

"Ah well," Harry said. "Back to square one."

"I'll make some hot chocolate," Hermione said, and headed of to the kitchen.

Ron looked at Harry. "Sorry, mate."

"Don't be daft," Harry said, making a valiant effort to grin. "We just need to come up with some more ideas, is all."

"This could take forever," Ron said seriously. This time Harry did manage to laugh.

"It won't take forever, Ron. Hermione thinks we'll be finished in time to take our NEWTs," he said, now grinning widely at the horrified expression on Ron's face.

"Mental," he said dispassionately, as he followed Harry, still chuckling, down to the kitchen.

Hermione was pouring hot water into three large mugs, each containing a spoon that was stirring of its own accord. Ron headed over to Hermione and Harry peered into the cauldron of Felix that was still maturing on the worktop, pretending to be very interested in it for a few moments before Ron caught his attention by speaking, at which point Harry knew it was safe to look up.

"Have you had any replies about Flitwick, yet?" Ron asked.

"No, not yet," replied Harry. He had sent a message via Fawkes to both McGonagall and Moody about the note he had received from Ginny regarding Flitwick's whereabouts, but had as yet had no reply from either of them.

"I expect there's been a lot to sort out, with the werewolf attacks, and Shacklebolt, and the Prime Minister, and everything. If Flitwick's being kept alive so Voldemort can use him, it's probably not an immediate priority compared to the immediate safety of others," Hermione said wisely. "They'll get back to you soon, Harry, I'm sure of it." She passed him a steaming mug of hot chocolate, which Harry accepted gratefully.

"I guess you two have been duelling, then?" Ron said, grinning. Harry glanced at Hermione, who still looked a bit sweaty and dishevelled, and he realised that he must look no better.

"Yeah," Harry said, taking a sip of his sweet drink. "Hermione reckons that you and me should duel more, though." Harry was secretly pleased to see that Ron looking nothing short of alarmed at the idea of duelling Harry.

"She does, huh?" he said, turning to look incredulously at Hermione.

"Well Harry duels much better than me, and I think that fighting him would improve your skills," Hermione said levelly. Harry couldn't help but grinning openly at the Ron's expression: both indignant and anxious.

"Don't worry," Harry said. "I won't kill you Ron – who would I talk to when Hermione's in a strop?" Laughing, Harry easily deflected the hexes his best friends shot at him. "I'm going to have a shower before meeting Tenuit," he said, chuckling. "You two should work on your aim!" He dodged a couple more spells before laughing and turning from the room, refusing to let the lack of success in finding a Horcrux get his spirits down.

Harry arrived at his lesson with Tenuit still in an unusually cheerful mood. His Legilimency mentor commented on his high spirits. "Something good happened?" the old wizard asked.

"Not really," Harry said. "There's no point being miserable though, is there?" This was the only answer Harry could give, as he wasn't sure himself what had put him in such a good mood. After all, Voldemort's antics were hardly anything to be cheerful about, neither was the discovery that they had to start again in their Horcrux search. The only reason he could think of for his good mood was that his magic was improving considerably, and the fact that he had escaped Voldemort on countless occasions with inferior magic skills, coupled with the knowledge of how to destroy him, gave Harry hope that the wizarding war would soon be over, and with Harry surviving to tell the tale.

"Shall we get started, then?" Tenuit suggested. Then, before Harry had registered what he had said, Tenuit cried "Legilimens!" and Harry felt the familiar sensation that someone had pulled apart his mind. In moments, Harry had managed to push his 'weapon thoughts' as Tenuit called them, those memories which Harry feared, to the safety of the back of his mind, feeding Tenuit with memories of love and happiness. This technique had been developed specifically for confrontation with Voldemort. Harry could block out weaker attempts at Legilimency, but he was not confidant that he could keep out Lord Voldemort, possibly the most accomplished Legilimens of all time. Instead, Harry used his knowledge about Voldemort, in particular the occasion in the Ministry when Voldemort had been unable to possess Harry because of Harry's capacity to love, to form a unique defence. Harry suspected that if all Voldemort could procure from Harry were thoughts and memories of love, he wouldn't bother for very long. Also, it was likely to irritate him. Harry knew from experience that when Voldemort fought with fury that he could be erratic and thoughtless. Therefore, rather than learning to fight back without emotions, Harry was channelling his magic through emotions that Voldemort would not understand. Thus Harry's magic would be stronger, and more difficult for Voldemort to understand, so predict, and vanquish.

Tenuit ended the spell. "Very good, Harry! Your best yet, I'd say. I didn't even glimpse the memories I was aiming for." Harry had spent many uncomfortable sessions where Tenuit had specifically searched for Harry's 'weapon thoughts', which involved Harry reliving again and again his worst ever memories, like watching Sirius die, and watching Dumbledore die, and having to force Dumbledore to drink the potion on their first and only Horcrux mission. The benefit of this was that Harry had become so used to seeing these memories that they no longer haunted him in his sleep, and with the added work of magic training, Harry was beginning to sleep better than he had done in years. Perhaps that was another reason for his good mood.

"You didn't give me any warning," Harry said.

"And you still did the best I've ever seen!" Tenuit said proudly. Harry couldn't help but smile sheepishly.

"Shall we try Occlumency now?" Harry asked.

"Yes, alright. Whenever you're ready." Harry gave Tenuit a moment to prepare himself, then, without moving a muscle, Harry performed a strong Legilimency spell, and broke straight through all Tenuit's defences. He wasted no time in searching for the information on a scrap of parchment he knew that Tenuit had placed for him, and was hiding as best as he could. Without avail though, as Harry soon alighted upon the words '_Well done Harry. There's no more I can teach you. All the best, Philip Tenuit_.' Harry ended the spell and looked blankly at Tenuit. "I'm serious, Harry. I can take you no further. You can do extremely advanced Legilimency and Occlumency, wordlessly and wandlessly. There really is nothing else I can teach you in this field."

Harry felt himself deflate. He had been enjoying his sessions with Tenuit and had never really contemplated that they would come to an end. "Oh," he said, feeling at a loss for words.

"Of course," Tenuit said tentatively, "If there's anything else I can help you with, I'd be more than happy." Harry turned to him and smiled gratefully.

"Please, if you know anything else that you think will help, I'm more than willing to learn from you." Harry had enjoyed having a mentor again, and was unwilling to forgo the luxury if he could help it.

"Have you heard of the shadowing spell?" Tenuit asked Harry. Harry shook his head. "Well," Tenuit said, "it is quite tricky and often not particularly useful, but I think you might find yourself an exception. The function of the spell is that when someone apparates, you are able to follow them without prior knowledge of where they are going, and without touching them as is necessary for side-along apparition. They will, of course, notice you appear next to them when they reappear. So you can see it is not useful for stealth, and so considered to be generically not useful. After all, if not following someone by stealth, you could simply ask the person where they were apparating to and follow them like that. I think for you, however, that following someone might be more important than remaining hidden, when it comes down to it. What do you think?"

"Sounds very useful," Harry agreed enthusiastically. "How does it go?"

"The incantation is Insequoran. Like apparition, there is no accompanying wand movement, but great determination is necessary. You must focus all your energy into following that person wherever they may go. Naturally, the longer distance travelled, the harder it is to maintain the spell. If you are unsuccessful in the spell, you will, as in unsuccessful apparition, find yourself splinched, probably miles away from your intended destination. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Harry said, "don't use it unless you're sure you can."

"Exactly. Now, let me hear you say Insequoran."

"Insequoran," Harry repeated.

"Very good. Practise that a few times and we'll see where that gets you."

"Insequoran," Harry said again, paying attention to how the word felt as it formed in his mouth and rolled off his tongue.

"Incidentally, Harry," Tenuit said thoughtfully, "Can you do other spells without a wand? The strength of the wandless magic I've seen you perform suggests you are capable."

"No," Harry said immediately, bewildered. He knew that only the greatest wizards could do wandless magic – even Voldemort had to use a wand for most spells. Then again, Voldemort also had to say most spells out loud, Harry thought smugly. "I thought being able to do wandless magic was really rare, only the greatest witches and wizards could do it, that's what you said." Harry defended himself.

"Yes, that is what I said," Tenuit agreed. "But what's not to say you are one of those great few, Harry?" Harry was stumped.

"But…" he spluttered. "Dumbledore could do wandless magic," Harry said. "He moved things in the Great Hall just by moving his hands. But that was Dumbledore…" he muttered inconsequentially.

"Just a thought, I was only interested. I didn't expect you to, it was just a question," Tenuit said. "So, insequoran. Let's have a go, shall we?"

After very exhausting a hour, in which Harry finally managed to successfully execute the shadowing spell, though he did splinch himself twice, Harry returned to Grimmauld Place with every intention of catching some rest. He had barely made it halfway up the stairs, though, when Hermione met him on the landing. "We got letters for another Order meeting next week. You look ever so tired, Harry."

Harry grunted. "I'm fine. Did the letters say anything about Flitwick?"

"No," Hermione replied, "but with the meeting a few days away it can probably wait. Do you agree?" Harry was too tired to argue so he nodded. "I'm going to take a rest," he said slowly.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded again. "Do you want me to wake you for dinner?"

"I'll be awake by then," Harry said, "I just need to rest a while." Hermione nodded and let him past.

Harry was so drowsy that once again he had barely time enough to remove his glasses before falling asleep. He dreamt of three houses, the same three that had been frequenting his dreams since the summer. The people were still undistinguishable blurs, and Harry couldn't tell what was going on, except that there was anger and confusion. He awoke after an hour of sleep, not feeling much rested. Pushing his glasses back on, Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed and gazed unseeingly at the floor, deep in thought, trying to interpret his reoccurring dreams. A laugh from somewhere else in the house startled him. It was not often that laughter was heard at Grimmauld Place. Curious, Harry exited his bedroom and followed the sound to the practise room. He cautiously pushed open the door to see Ron, with tears in his eyes from laughing so hard, peering down at a large speckled toad squatting at his feet, a creature incredibly reminiscent of Trevor.

"It's Hermione!" Ron choked through his tears. "I turned her into a toad!"

Harry felt himself start to laugh, too. He wasn't sure the situation would be quite so amusing once Hermione transformed back into her human form, so it was best to take the opportunity to laugh at her while she was one twelfth his size.

Their mirth was short-lived, as Hermione soon transformed back to her usual, bushy-haired self. Far from being frustrated at the boys for laughing at her, Hermione was delighted that Ron had managed to perform such a complicated bit of magic. After all, he never was very good at transfiguration. Hermione decided to show her joy physically, so Harry rapidly exited the room again. He wasn't sure why he was so uncomfortable with Ron and Hermione being couply around him. After all, he had been couply around them with Ginny in those few wonderful weeks at Hogwarts. Needing something to distract himself, Harry headed to the drawing room, with the intention of writing to Lupin. No longer able to spy on the werewolves, Lupin had intended to return back to his house. Harry felt a bit guilty telling him it probably wasn't safe to go there anymore, as the Death Eaters might be watching it. In an attempt to surrender his guilt, Harry offered Lupin Honeysuckle cottage, the house Dumbledore left to Harry in his will. Harry had really wanted to be the first person there, but Lupin had been so helpful to Harry throughout the past four years, not to mention being his father and godfather's best friend, that Harry felt it only right Lupin should take it. Lupin did offer to stay at Grimmauld Place with them, but Harry decided his old professor needed a break from the battle.

Having settled himself, Harry took out his quill but found it difficult to put his thoughts into words. After a few minutes of idly doodling, Harry took a fresh piece of parchment and wrote

_Dear Moony_

_I hope you've settled in okay. Let me know if there's anything we can do to help. We're all doing fine. I hope you'll keep in touch._

_Harry._

He set his quill back down, and stared at the short note in front of him. He considered it barely counted as a letter, but he'd said what he'd meant to. Deciding that would do, Harry put the letter aside. While he was at it, he thought it couldn't hurt to write to a few more people. It was best to keep in touch with everyone – he would need them all sooner or later. Harry picked up his quill again, and wrote a similar letter to Hagrid:

_Dear Hagrid. _

_I hope you're okay. How is Hogwarts? I miss being there. How is Hedwig? I know you're looking after her well. Please give her some extra treats and say they're from me. I miss you both. I hope Fang is okay, and Grawp, too. How is his English coming along? If there's anything you need me to do, please just let me know. I miss you all! Keep in touch._

_Harry._

Harry put down the quill again and chewed his lip. This letter writing was quite hard work, what with not actually being able to say anything about what he'd been doing or where or was. After a few more minutes, Harry gave up. He deserted his seat and went in search of Ron. He found both Ron and Hermione in the library, surround by countless bookcases of cobweb covered dusty books, illuminated by glowing flames contained within the grate.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," Hermione replied, without looking up. She, too, seemed to be writing to someone.

"Hermione though it would be a good idea to write to our parents," Ron grimaced.

"You can stop when you're written two feet, Ron, that's not much." Harry glanced at Hermione's letter – she seemed to be writing a novel. She was obviously agitated by Harry watching her and distracting Ron. "Harry, if you're bored, I've set out some herbology books on the table." Harry looked at the table and inwardly groaned. Why had he mentioned his suffering Herbology skills to Hermione? Now he was actually going to have to study. Still, it did give him something useful to do. Harry took the first book from the top of the pile: "Wood for Wands: Understanding magical qualities in wand trees". It made Harry think of Ginny, and her interest in becoming a wand maker, and thinking of Ginny made him feel calmer, somehow. He took the book under his arm, and curled in a dusty armchair next to the crackling fire. He opened it in his lap and began to read.

Harry jumped when Ron coughed next to him. "Harry, mate, Hermione says dinner's ready." Harry blinked at him, and noticed that the room around them was a lot darker than he'd remembered it to be.

"Is it that time already?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Later," Ron said, a bit grudgingly. "Hermione wanted to wait until you'd finished reading, she didn't want to disturb you. But I got hungry." Harry marked the page and closed the book.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," he said.

"That book… is it really that interesting?"

"Yeah," Harry replied enthusiastically. He stood up and stretched. "Did you know that wood from trees inhabited by Bowtruckle make better wands than others?"

"No" Ron said disinterestedly, and began walking towards the kitchen.

"Yeah," Harry replied, following his friend. "Their excrements contain nutrients that are really good for enhancing the magical qualities of the wood." Ron stopped walking and looked at Harry with one eyebrow raised.

"Thanks, Harry. I'll treasure that bit of trivia. Now stop talking about excrement and let's go eat."

Later that night, Harry lay awake in the dark. What Tenuit had said about wandless magic had made itself a little nest in his head. He _had _done wandless magic, Harry thought. Some unintentionally, like removing the glass at the zoo or blowing up his aunt. But there had been occasions, like in the alleyway before the dementors attacked his cousin Dudley, when Harry had purposefully cast magic without the wand in his hand. Spurred by this thought, Harry retrieved his wand from under his pillow and laid it out on the bed in front of him, resting on the duvet covering his legs. "Lumos," he whispered. Nothing happened. Harry stared hard at the spot where he could just make out his wand in the domineering darkness. "Lumos!" he said forcibly, and was delighted that his wand tip ignited, illuminating the room with a soft glow. "Nox" Harry said, and was plunged into darkness again. Grinning, he tried the magic non-verbally and amused himself for a short while by lighting and dimming the room several times. Now he knew he could light his wand without touching it, Harry wanted to try something that removed his wand from the loop altogether. He thought of an easy spell, one that he had been able to perform successfully in his first year. Harry plucked a protruding feather from his pillow and placed it in front of him, next to his wand. "Wingardium leviosa!" he said. Nothing happened. Harry concentrated harder and incanted again. This time the feather flickered, but lay resolutely on the bed, illuminated by the soft glow still issuing from the end of his wand. Harry sighed. He tried to remember if he'd ever seen anyone perform wandless magic before, and how they had accomplished it. He remembered how Dumbledore had used his hands and arms to create movement when casting spells and/or directing magic. Feeling just as stupid as he had when he'd first waved a wand, Harry held out his hand, with his palm facing towards the feather. With all the strength he could muster, Harry cast the spell once more. Slowly, with Harry's hand guiding it, the feather rose into the air. Harry smiled widely, thrilled with his minimal progress. Finally allowing the feather to drop, Harry, still grinning but tired, put his wand and the feather safely under his pillow and fell into a very welcome deep and dreamless sleep.


	17. Chapter 17 The Storm has Hit

**A/n: I'm sorry this was so long coming. Life got in the way. It can do that sometimes :)

* * *

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**Chapter 17 – The Storm has Hit**

The room was large and empty. It had probably been a dining room before the house fell into disrepair, but now was a place that most in the wizarding world feared; it was the meeting place for Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. The sun was nearly set, it's finally amber rays softening the otherwise encompassing darkness that spilled into the room and over its occupants. The Dark Lord himself stood in the centre of the room, a number of his followers encircling him, their faces hidden by masks. Not all the Death Eaters were present, for the Dark Lord had now gained almost two hundred such followers. Only those he had called specifically were assembled, Wormtail and Snape amongst them. The latter was on his knees at the feet of his master, eyes fixed firmly on the floor, resolutely ignoring the wand pointing directly between them. When he spoke, his voice was low and steady, none of his usual sneer polluting the vernacular.

"My Lord, I made the Unbreakable Vow," Snape admitted, fully prepared for the fury to follow. It did not, however, so Snape continued. "I vowed to protect Draco Malfoy and in this instance I am protecting him from you. If your desire for his death is greater than your mercy for my life, I will divulge his location," Snape said, bowing his head still further. This time, the fury came. With a flick of his master's wand, Severus Snape flew rapidly and ungracefully across the room, not stopping until he'd hit the far wall and crumpled on the floor. Snape had decided that the time had come to tell Lord Voldemort about the vow he had made to Narcissa Malfoy. He suspected, however, that the ark Lord was already aware of the promise because Bellatrix was likely to have mentioned it at some point. The fact that Snape hadn't been cursed the instant he admitted this proved his guesses to be correct. His decision to tell his master himself, though, had been in order to prolong his own life. Since Snape had vowed to protect Draco, there was no chance he could tell the Dark Lord of his whereabouts without effectively committing suicide. Until now Snape had been secretive and avoidant, but when really pressed for answers, Snape had given the only one available to him. Thankfully, as the servant had predicted, the Dark Lord did value Snape's life more than Draco's death. Killing Dumbledore certainly had its advantages, the main one being that although the Dark Lord was certainly displeased in Snape hiding the Malfoys, his displeasure was nothing compared to his elation that his nemesis had been destroyed by one of his oldest Death Eaters. In order to maintain their devotion, Voldemort had to demonstrate to his followers that good deeds would be rewarded; therefore cursing Snape would not have been a particularly good idea. Trust was already thin on the ground as it was; the Dark Lord had recently had occasion to annihilate a couple of Death Eaters who had apparently had some confusion about where their loyalties lay. Ordinarily he wouldn't be exterminating his devotees left right and centre, but his ranks certainly were swelling in response to the Ministry's incompetence. Plus the threat of death to deserters was a good incentive for his followers to remain faithful.

As Snape crawled back to his position, another Death Eater was called forward. As if in imitation, he, too, knelt before his master with his head bowed in reverence. A cold, high-pitched voice that sent shivers up the spine cut through the silence like a whip. "Webb, what news from the Goblins? When will they be joining us?"

The man at Voldemort's feet squirmed uncomfortably and mumbled something so quietly it was incoherent to the other Death Eaters. They did not need to hear, however, as the servant's words were reflected in the vicious ferocity now clouding their master's face like black thunder. Apparently, the mission to enlist the support of the goblins had not been successful. Webb began to shake at his master's feet, but the Dark Lord paid no heed to his discomfort.

"You seem to have forgotten that I will not tolerate incompetence. If you cannot manage to complete the simple tasks I set for you, then you are useless to me. I do not spare the lives of those who are useless. _Avada Kedavra_!"

* * *

That evening, the members of the Order of the Phoenix had gathered in the dining room of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, as usual. Most unusually, however, everyone was talking at once, and Mad-Eye Moody, who had been in charge of the organisation since Dumbledore's death, was having difficulty trying to make himself heard.

"Settle down," he growled. "Come on, now, plenty of time to discuss it later." Harry watched Moody's fruitless efforts with half-hearted amusement. Mad-Eye gave up in time, raising his wand into the air and letting off several loud bangs that sounded to Harry like gunfire he'd overheard on numerous occasions when Dudley had been watching television. The volume diminished rapidly as those gathered looked around to determine the source of the noise. "Now that I've got your attention," Moody barked, "would everyone please take a seat? Quietly!"

Harry joined in the embarrassed shuffle of witches and wizards as they took a seat at the dining table, which, Harry observed, was somehow substantially bigger than usual. The room was full of magicfolk; it was the biggest meeting the Order of the Phoenix had ever held. Harry knew why: the storm had hit.

The _Daily Prophet_ had reported all sorts of horrendous stories the previous day, many complete with pictures that relayed the events in an unending black-and-white cycle. Harry and Ron had been forced to listen in disgust as Hermione summarised for them the antics of the Death Eaters and the associated consequences: Five important wizarding families had disappeared without a trace including three young children; after Minister Scrimgeour refused again to meet with him, Voldemort had collapsed Blackpool pier, which, though not as full as it would have been in warmer weather, was nonetheless supporting many Muggle families occupying their children's half-term holiday. Luckily most were unhurt, but several were seriously injured and five Muggles drowned. In addition, the Muggle Prime Minister, indisputably under the imperious curse, had apparently begun forming a secret army to battle wizards using Muggle weapons (Ron had scoffed at this until Hermione and Harry explained to him about guns and bombs). There had been more giant damage in Herefordshire, and St Mungo's had now officially closed. The list of disasters went on and on, punctuated by frequent Dementor attacks, both on wizards and Muggles. The news that had shaken them most, however, was that Fred and George had finally closed their shop after two Death Eaters tried to abduct them both. Luckily, Voldemort had grossly underestimated the Weasley twins, who had jinxed the Death Eaters into slugs, put them into a cardboard box and delivered them straight to the Aurors.

"I am aware that a lot has occurred this past week that would merit your discussion," Moody began, his magic eye swivelling around the room so fast it made Harry feel dizzy to watch it. "However, there are other important issues we need to discuss. First and foremost, St Mungo's has now officially closed due to all our Healers refusing to work for fear of death or abduction. Therefore, emergency healing shelters are our first priority. It's true the Ministry has also tried to set up shelters, but they are being destroyed in the order they are created. I don't think it takes a genius to guess there's a spy in their midst." At this there was a murmur of agreement around the table. Silence fell the moment Moody started talking again. "So I want everyone who has a spare moment on their hand to volunteer as a Healer, except you, Mr Potter," Moody said, and Harry felt his face grow hot as, once again, most eyes sought him. Harry hoped that this turn of attention wouldn't lead to another plea for him to relate his business to the Order. He had assumed this was done before because the Order needed some sort of hope, some kind of encouragement that there was still a chance they could beat Lord Voldemort. As it stood, the Order seemed to be hearing about things after they happened, as opposed to those on the other side, who knew what was going to occur before it did. Harry realised that to stand a chance of winning they needed to turn this state of affairs around, so that it was Voldemort second-guessing and the Order and Ministry in control. Harry looked up at Moody, preparing to apologise again for not giving any more information, but it seemed that Moody had already moved on.

It wasn't long, however, before Harry was once again brought into Moody's address. "Mr Potter has received a tip regarding the whereabouts of Filius Flitwick." Mad-Eye returned his gaze to Harry. "What can you tell us?"

"Uh…" Harry cleared his throat, somehow starting to get used to talking in front of people. "I can't say who told me, for their safety, but the information is almost certainly genuine, though I'd go prepared, just in case. Here," Harry handed Moody a piece of parchment he'd had in his pocket ready for the meeting. He'd copied out part of the message that Ginny had written to him:

…_he's being kept at the big old house on Friar Lane in Harpenden. Voldemort's been using him to create some sort of Inferius army…_

Moody read the short note twice over. Everyone assembled was silent as they awaited his reaction. "Right," he barked suddenly, making several people, including Harry, jump. "We need a team to go get Flitwick, now." Harry sorely wished to volunteer, but knew if he were to be sighted by a Death Eater that Voldemort would be there before you could say _Avada Kedavra_, and Harry didn't think his luck could stretch to escape yet another killing curse. So he watched as others formed a group, including Maroc Khalil and Alan Elms from the original team, to go and rescue the Hogwarts charms professor.

The meeting then quickly progressed to reports given by those members who had been watching the Riddle house. "We think there are about two hundred Death Eaters in total," one of them said (the one people seemed to be calling Dill), "and they all apparate directly into the house. There's always at least one of them in the house at all times," (Harry thought he could guess who). "You-Know-Who doesn't leave very often, but when he does leave he always goes alone. He seems to spend most of his time listening to reports from the Death Eaters, or giving them new orders. He –uh – he doesn't have much patience," Dill finished weakly. Harry thought that was a bit of an understatement; it was in the _Prophet_ only that morning that Voldemort had killed three of his own Death Eaters on suspicion of being spies. Harry thought it was more likely that the Death Eaters didn't know what they were in for and wanted out, but, of course, you can't just decide not to be a Death Eater. A fresh rumble of murmurs started following Dill's report, which was interrupted by the sharp voice of a young-looking wizard Harry thought he recognised, though he couldn't place him.

"Why just sit by and watch him?" the wizard asked the room in general. "Why not wait until You-Know-Who's alone, then a load of us go in together and take him on?" Harry stared at him incredulously. Hermione's eyebrows had disappeared into her hairline and Ron was wearing a look of distaste he usually reserved for Snape. Fred and George were openly laughing and, without remembering how he got there, Harry found himself on his feet.

"You can't just take on Voldemort!" Harry exclaimed loudly, at once quelling any other sound as most shuddered involuntarily. "How many people do you know who've taken him on who are still living to tell the tale? One, that's how many! That's me, and I'm telling you, I wouldn't fancy just walking in there. Even if you could, which I doubt – there's almost certainly a Dark Mark barrier - do you think he's ever alone in there? Wormtail's almost always with him, and Snape, not to mention his pet snake. She's twelve feet long and only obeys orders from him. You'll be dead before you even get a glimpse of him." Harry shot the offended one more contemptuous glare before reclaiming his seat. Ron was now looking at Harry with an expression oddly akin to awe on his face. Harry suspected many others were looking at him in the same way. However, the other young wizard had not finished yet.

"Have you got a better idea, then? Have you got some genius plan you've just been hiding from us all this time?" he said scathingly.

"Yes, actually," Harry retorted.

"Higgs, Potter, that will do." Moody said. Harry felt triumphant. Higgs – that's where he knew the boy – he had been the Slytherin seeker before Malfoy, and had finished school when Harry was in his second year. Harry frowned. Why was a Slytherin in the Order? He didn't mean to be prejudiced, but the only Slytherin who had been in the Order before was Snape, and he had passed all their plans directly to Voldemort. He didn't have time to think about it, though, as Moody had started speaking again.

"The last point we need to address is the fact that the Ministry is doing nothing more than clearing up after You-Know-Who. They've not managed to arrest a single Death Eater in the past six months, and still have no idea about You-Know-Who's plans, which puts them in about the same position as us." Moody's eye glared at each of them in turn, making most squirm in their seats. "Perhaps if we work together we can get more accomplished. Is there any here friendly with the Minister who can try to enforce these links?" The room fell silent again. Harry fought silently with himself for a moment before speaking out for the second time that evening.

"I could give it a go," Harry said. "I'm not Scrimgeour's favourite person in the world, but I'm pretty sure I could convince him to do what I say," Harry said, trying not to sound to superior.

"Thank you, Potter, we'll arrange a visit for you." Harry tried to ignore the more menacing tone Moody had adopted when talking about the Minister for Magic.

Soon afterwards, the meeting drew to a close. There was an abnormal amount of conversation as the witches and wizards prepared to leave. Harry stayed seated while others left, and saw the Weasley twins arranging to man a healing shelter with Betina Briarthorn, while Khalil and Elms planned their rescue with the other team members. Hermione and Ron were in the corner chatting with Mrs Weasley. Harry heard Moody clump past him on his wooden leg. "You still checking on the Malfoys?" Moody growled in his ear.

"Yes," Harry said.

"Pop over again tomorrow," Moody said, and limped off to engage Tonks in conversation." Harry glared at his knuckles in his lap. He had been to see the Malfoys last week. Surely he didn't need to go again so soon? Harry didn't hear someone walking up behind him, and he jumped as a hand was placed gently on his shoulder. Harry looked round to see Lupin standing behind him.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Lupin asked. Harry shook his head and Lupin took the seat next to him. They were silent for a short while. Harry hadn't seen Lupin since he moved into Dumbledore's house.

"How are you settling in?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

"Just fine, Harry. Don't you worry about me. I've been chatting with Ms Briarthorn, and I'm going to be working on one of those emergency shelters next week."

"Oh, good," Harry replied, secretly wishing he could do the same, partly so he could feel more involved with the Order, and partly because although he was working hard to end the war, he was aware that he wasn't doing anything to help the current situation. Knowing it was useless, though, Harry pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind and tried to smile at his conversation partner. "How's the house?"

Lupin returned his smile. "The house is lovely, Harry. You're going to enjoy living there. It's yours whenever you want it, you know."

"I know," Harry said suddenly, "but I don't want it, yet. I've got some things to do first."

"I understand, Harry," Lupin said. "Your father was just the same. Once he had set his mind to something he wouldn't rest until it was finished. Excepting potions homework, of course." Harry grinned. There was another lull in the conversation then, and Harry noticed almost everyone had left now. He also noticed that Lupin's expression had shifted slightly. "This plan you have. Is it going well?" Lupin asked, his voice low so they wouldn't be overheard.

"It's going okay," Harry said. Truthfully, it was going okay. They only had one more Horcrux to find, which was good progress. The problem was that they didn't have a clue where to start looking for it. "I'm sorry I can't tell you about it," Harry said. "Dumbledore made me promise, and I know he had his reasons." Lupin nodded in understanding.

"You will remember to ask for help, won't you, Harry?" Harry grinned and rolled his eyes. He was glad that no matter how bad things got, there were still those who would offer help consistently, evening harassingly.

"Yes," he said. "And I will, believe me, when the time comes. I'll ask you, the Order, the Ministry, everyone. And watch as they all come crawling to me," Harry said grimly. The corners of Lupin's mouth twitched, apparently appreciative of dry humour.

"Do you, erm, do you want to stay for dinner?" Harry asked. Lupin smiled in earnest this time.

"Thank you for the invitation, Harry, but I already have plans. Perhaps we can stop by another time?" Harry grinned. By 'we' Harry knew Lupin meant him and Tonks, and by 'plans' he meant Tonks.

"Okay," Harry said. "Well, I'd best be off." He winked at Lupin as he sought out Ron and Hermione. Lupin wished him good luck, and Harry made his way over to his friends. After they'd said their goodbyes and Molly had given Harry a rib breaking hug Harry, Ron and Hermione left via the front door, and Apparated directly back into the practise room upstairs. As the owner of the house, Harry was the only person who could Apparate directly into Grimmauld Place, but they'd soon found out that his friends could side-along. When they had regained their balance, Ron let out a long, low whistle.

"It's all go, isn't it?" he said. "That Higgs seems a bit of a prick."

"Ronald!" scolded Hermione.

"He was a Slytherin," Harry said, startling them both, and preventing the repertoire of retorts that would otherwise have inevitably followed. "He was the seeker before Malfoy, I played my first ever game against him."

"A _Slytherin_?" Hermione repeated.

"Knew there was something funny about him," Ron said, scowling.

"But there was only ever one other Slytherin in the Order, and he…" Hermione said, trailing off towards the end.

"Yeah, we know who he was, thanks Hermione," Harry said, his voice bitter. He smiled though, to reassure Hermione that his anger was not directed at her. He couldn't help but get angry whenever he thought about Snape. Harry absently raked his hands through his hair until it had an undeniably ruffled look.

"Higgs, did you say, Harry?" Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Yeah," Harry replied.

"Higgs was the name of one of the Death Eaters found dead recently."

A short silence followed this, then, "Maybe he's feeling vengeful?" Ron suggested.

"Maybe…" Harry didn't like the idea of a Slytherin being in the Order – Merlin knew they couldn't be trusted. Dumbledore had trusted Snape and look what had happened! But if Voldemort killed Higgs' parents, then Harry knew how that felt. Revenge was a term not to be used lightly, but was always applicable when referring to Voldemort. Harry sighed. He was tired all of a sudden. "I'm going to bed," he said dejectedly, and abruptly left the room, his friends exchanging concerned glances in his wake.

Harry was so deep in thought that he barely noticed where he was going and was surprised to find that he'd arrived at his room so quickly. Fawkes was perched on the large wooden bedstead, waiting for him. "Hi, Fawkes," Harry said wearily, as he stroked the soft feathers on the phoenix's head. "It's been a long evening." Fawkes blinked at Harry with eyes full of understanding, a look that Hedwig had often given him. A sharp twinge somewhere near Harry's heart made him aware of just how much he was missing Hedwig. If he didn't have to be so cautious, he would visit Hagrid in the morning. The thought made Harry smile, until he remembered that he had to go and see Malfoy in the morning, on Moody's instruction. "I need to go and see Malfoy again tomorrow," Harry told Fawkes as he got ready for bed. Fawkes titled his head to one side. "Well I don't like him, either," Harry said, "but it's my job to check up on him."

Harry removed his glasses and climbed into bed. "Goodnight, Fawkes," Harry said. There was a flash of red, and the phoenix was gone. Harry closed his eyes and settled into a peaceful night's sleep.


	18. Chapter 18 Meeting with the Minister

**Chapter 18 – Meeting with the Minister**

The tables in the Great Hall at Hogwarts were piled high with the usual mouth-watering assortment of breakfast foods. Ginny Weasley had filled her plate with a mountain of sausages and bacon, and was working her way through slowly whilst chatting with Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas (who had finally gotten over their break up).

"I've got three more star charts to do for Astronomy, not to mention a foot and a half left on my human transfigurations essay," Dean grumbled. It was the boys' NEWT year, and apparently it was harder even than OWLs had been. In fact, the seventh years Ginny generally spoke to were increasingly talking of nothing but homework and exams. It was beginning to get a little tiresome.

"Let's talk about something else," she said, in a less than subtle attempt to change the topic of conversation. Dean blinked at her, but didn't argue.

"Okay," he said, "What are we doing in DA tonight?"

"Something really great!" Neville exclaimed, before Ginny could even contemplate answering. He seemed eager to explain, so Ginny took another large mouthful of sausage and allowed him to continue. "We're doing reflection charms," Neville told Dean, "so the spell your opponent casts is turned back onto them. Hopefully it'll help casters be more inventive with their spells, too, seeing as they'll backfire."

Ginny swallowed. "We'll suggest spells like _Locomotor Mortis_ and _Stupefy_ to start with, as everyone seems to have the hang of those," she said, "and then we'll move onto more exciting stuff like temporary blindness and confundus charms, stuff like that."

"Cool," Dean said.

There was a momentary lull in their conversation as the three students resumed breakfast consumption. Their silence was disturbed when the doors to the Great Hall opened, and Neville said, "Look". The three students halted eating and looked up to see Professor McGonagall enter the Hall at a hurried pace. Their Headmistress rarely ate breakfast (or lunch) with the students; they attributed this to her being exceptionally busy. These days, McGonagall only attended daytime meals to bring bad news. Therefore it was with both great interest and trepidation that nearly every head turned to watch the professor's brisk progress towards the Slytherin table. With sparingly few words exchanged, the Headmistress helped a seventh year girl to her feet and they left the hall together, their rapid footsteps echoing round the otherwise silent room. Gradually the buzz of conversation returned.

"Morag McDonald," Neville said in a hushed voice. "I wonder what happened." Ginny's insides clenched themselves into a tight knot. She had found out from the notebook that morning that Flitwick had been rescued. Her gut was telling her that Morag's father's association with Flitwick's disappearance had gotten him into trouble. For the girl's sake, Ginny hoped it was with the Ministry, not with Voldemort. There was still a fair amount of food left on Ginny's plate, but she pushed it away, unable to eat anything further.

* * *

In the gloomy bowels of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Harry was lying on his bed, reading the book that Hermione had bought for him for Christmas. He had read it before, but it had been an exceptional read, not to mention a source of comfort. Reading words that Dumbledore himself had written made Harry feel as though his mentor was still teaching his favourite pupil, and Harry took great pleasure in studying Dumbledore's work. In addition, whenever Hermione saw Harry reading the book she had selected for him, it made her beam like Christmas had come again. Harry was glad to make her smile.

Although the book was entitled _The Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood_, Harry decided that there were far more than twelve uses, really, but they came under twelve general categories. The most boring uses included being ingredients in certain potions, like the Draught of Detestation, but some other uses were far more interesting. For example, an easy way to create cursed objects was to coat the core with cursed dragons blood, which not only held the magic securely, but increased its strength, thus increasing both the longevity of the curse and the strength of the effects it would have on the unsuspecting victim. Harry had also been horrified to discover that dragon's blood created a means of removing magic from a witch or wizard, effectively creating a squib. According to the book (and therefore to Dumbledore), it was a complicated process that required the Gramarye Crystal, whatever that was.

Harry was distracted from his reading as there was a loud knocking on his door. Harry had been so enthralled with his reading that he hadn't even heard anyone approach along the creaky corridor outside. "Come in," Harry said. He marked his page and put the book aside. He twisted round on his bed and sat up as Hermione came into the room. That morning she'd shown them how to transfigure a table into a pig, in much the same way as McGonagall had done in their first year at school. Harry knew that this transfiguration was part of the NEWT learning, but Ron still didn't seem suspicious, and Hermione had been delighted because they'd all gotten it right by their third go (Hermione, had, of course, gotten it perfect first time). Ron's pig didn't have a tail, so Hermione told him to practise, but Harry could tell that, judging by how difficult the boys usually found transfiguration, they had all done much better than could be predicted based on any of their previous lessons. Harry hoped that Hermione's disturbing him didn't mean they were going to do more transfigurations; he was quite happy reading for the moment.

As it turned out, Hermione just came to remind him that he had a meeting with the Minister for Magic in half an hour. Harry blinked in surprise. "Have I been reading that long?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Apparently so," Hermione said, smiling broadly at the pleasure her present had given Harry. "You're becoming quite the bookworm," she teased.

"No I'm not," Harry argued, but there was no real conviction in his retort. Hermione simply grinned in reply.

"There wasn't anything about Flitwick in the _Prophet_ this morning," Hermione said. They had received word from the Order that Flitwick had been rescued the night before, and he was now in the care of Bettina Briarthorn. There wasn't any reason why the _Prophet_ would have reported it yet, Harry thought. He assumed the Order would alert the Ministry at some point, and then it would certainly appear in the news to encourage the wizarding world to put some faith back in the Ministry, even though they did nothing to help. It was such political hypocrisy; it was like a ridiculous game, in which Harry would do his utmost not to become involved.

"Try to make yourself look respectable," Hermione said, bringing Harry back to the present. "The Ministry won't want their poster boy to be scruffy." As Hermione left, Harry peered critically at his hand-me-down sweater and torn jeans, and grunted at Hermione's retreating footsteps. Despite her teasing, he knew she was right, so Harry reluctantly put his book away and made himself more presentable for his meeting with Scrimgeour. Moody had offered to arrange the meeting on Harry's behalf, but Harry had decided to contact the Minister personally. Harry's hinted suggestion of an inter-association collaboration was evidently so delectable the Minister hadn't been able to refuse.

Harry arrived at the Ministry of Magic at exactly three minutes to three in the afternoon. Hermione had arranged for the fire at Grimmauld Place to be temporarily reconnected to the Floo network for the occasion. When Harry stepped from one of the many fireplaces and made his way across the atrium, any eyes that turned his way were immediately transfixed, and Harry had barely made it halfway to the security desk before everyone around was silently gawping at him.

Trying to ignore the staring, to which he had unfortunately become accustomed, Harry wordlessly handed his wand to the security wizard for weighing. The wizard (his nametag read Terrance) handed Harry his wand and his receipt. Harry took them, thanked Terrance, and turned to see that Percy Weasley had appeared at his side as if out of nowhere. As usual, Ron's older brother gave no sign of recognising Harry whatsoever, and he addressed him as if they were strangers.

"Harry Potter, please follow me," Percy said, turning pompously and sauntering towards the lift at the end of the entrance hall. Harry resisted the urge to kick him on Ron's behalf, and followed him until they were both in the lift. Nobody else dared join them, so Percy silently closed the grate on the only two occupants of the vessel, and it began its slow and noisy ascent of the building. The silence inside the lift was stifling, so Harry thought he would break it.

"How are you these days, Percy?" Harry said, restraining from grinning and going for what he hoped was a polite smile instead. He was pleased to see that Percy looked uncomfortable with the familiarity he was demonstrating.

"Fine, thank you," Percy replied stiffly.

"You must be kicking yourself for going against Dumbledore now you know that he wasn't lying about Voldemort being back," Harry said. He didn't feel any remorse for teasing Percy about his past mistakes – he had asked for it really, particularly when he'd sent a letter to Ron warning him to stay away from Harry. He was also pleased that Percy jumped so much his glasses fell askew when Harry had said You-Know–Who's name out loud, but he had to control himself, otherwise he might get reckless when talking to the Minister, and that just wasn't sensible. After readjusting his spectacles, Percy ignored Harry's comments in what he obviously thought was a dignified silence. Thinking he had better patch things up, even if only because he felt it would please Mrs Weasley, Harry said, "I won't hold grudges. We're on the same side, right?"

"Yes," Percy said uncertainly, and looked most relieved once the lift stopped and the familiar cool voice announced 'Level One,' and left it at that. He stepped briskly from the vessel and strode hurriedly down the corridor, not stopping to check that Harry was following him. Harry had a little difficulty keeping up with Percy, who was about as tall as Ron, and consequently took larger strides that Harry, but he did his best. They rounded a corner and stopped almost immediately outside a pair of glossy black double doors. Percy pushed the doors open without knocking and entered what Harry guessed was his office, in the atrium to the office of the Minister for Magic himself. There was an excessively neat desk on Harry's left, and a set of two large oak double doors to the right. Percy approached these doors directly and rapped sharply three times. At a muffled call from within, Percy pushed one door ajar, and poked his head round into the next room. Harry heard him say, "Mr Potter is here, sir."

"Ask him to come in," came the reply, in the rough growling voice of Rufus Scrimgeour. Harry was pleased to discover that he didn't feel nervous in the least. He had found out some very nice plain black robes for the occasion, and had cleaned his glasses. His hair had been left to its own devices as usual, but now it was a bit longer it seemed to sort itself out better than before.

Harry walked confidently through the doors and waited until Percy had closed them again before he turned his attention to the Minister.

"I'm please you could come today, Mr Potter," Scrimgeour said, approaching Harry and extending his hand.

Harry accepted his hand, replying, "Thank you, Minister."

"Please take a seat," Scrimgeour indicated a pair of smart black leather sofas arranged to face each other, separated by a small, low table. The other side of the office held a large wooden desk with a chair seated either side, and an ornate fireplace took pride of place in the centre of the back wall. There were no windows; instead the room was lit by several orbs of light scattered around the room, floating a couple of feet above Harry's head.

Harry seated himself on one of the proffered couches and leant back with one elbow balanced on the armrest: the picture of perfect complacency. Scrimgeour settled himself opposite, but favoured the edge of the seat, and rested his forearms on his knees, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. He looked very impressive, Harry thought, dressed in robes of deep plum with gold fringes, his shaggy mane framing a wizened and battle-scarred face. Harry met the Minister's eyes, and for a moment neither looked away, as if they were challenging each other. Eventually, Scrimgeour tore his gaze away and glanced at the table between them. "Please help yourself to refreshments," he said, and Harry followed his gaze to notice that the table was now laden with sandwiches, sliced fruit, and a pot of tea, but he didn't take anything.

Scrimgeour wasn't a man for small talk, Harry knew that, so he wasn't surprised when the Minister returned his piercing gaze to Harry, and said, "Tell me, Harry, why you are here." His manner was polite and accommodating, but Harry knew he had far greater control of his emotions than Fudge ever had, so he couldn't be sure how the Minister was really feeling.

"I'm here to try and help," Harry said, trying to arrange his features into an earnest expression.

"Should I understand it that you are willing to co-operate with the Ministry?" Scrimgeour asked.

Harry tried to keep his expression neutral, but he had a suspicion that he might have raised his eyebrows. He hadn't been particularly un-co-operative before. Well, no more so to the Ministry than to anybody else. "I'm willing to co-operate with the ministry," he said levelly, "providing you co-operate with me." Scrimgeour surveyed him unblinkingly across his oversized desk. Receiving no response, Harry carried on talking. "I know where Voldemort is. I know who his Death Eaters are. Most importantly, I know how to kill him." Harry was pleased to see the minister shift suddenly in his seat at the news, and lean a little further forward on the edge of the settee.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his dark eyes boring uncomfortably into Harry's.

"Of course I am," Harry replied easily. "Minister, do you honestly think I would have risked entering the Ministry of Magic if I wasn't? He still wants to kill me, you know." Perhaps realising that he might be there a while, Scrimgeour abandoned his composed demeanour and sighed, leaning back into the cushions and adopting a more casual repose.

"So, how do we kill him?" the Minister asked.

"It's not a matter of we," Harry replied. "The question is how will _I_ kill him, but I'm afraid I can't answer that. It's a secret." Harry grinned. Scrimgeour frowned. "It's infallible, I assure you," Harry said, "but only I can do it, and only I know how, so that's pretty much sorted." Harry sounded a lot braver than he felt whilst saying this – he knew that even after the Horcruxes were destroyed he would probably have to duel with the Dark Lord, something he wasn't looking forward to, and then there were all the Death Eaters. "The Death Eaters may be a problem, though," Harry conceded.

"Well we can arrest the Death Eaters," Scrimgeour said.

Harry tried to resist from snorting, but failed. "Of course," he replied, "and you expect them to sit tight in Azkaban with the Dementors under Voldemort's control?" Scrimgeour shifted uneasily. "And you're not even arresting Death Eaters! You've arrested Stan Shunpike and Mundungus Fletcher, and neither of them are any more Death Eater than I am," Harry said, managing to keep his voice level, so it sounded more like he was merely pointing out faults, rather than complaining about them.

"Harry," Scrimgeour began, "The Ministry has to –"

"Keep up appearances?" Harry finished the Minister's sentence for him. "Look, I know how difficult it must be for you, but try doing something that will actually help instead of something that makes you look good." Harry was unable to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"It may surprise you, Mr Potter, that the Ministry is doing a vast deal more than locking up petty criminals," Scrimgeour said, his apparent patience now streaked with obvious annoyance.

"I'm glad to hear it," Harry replied, unperturbed.

"Our main priority at present is to keep the Muggle Prime Minister under our control."

"I beg your pardon?" Harry wasn't sure he had heard correctly.

"The Muggle Minister was indeed under the Imperious curse, no doubt under instruction of He Who Must Not Be Named, but he is now is Ministry custody. We have replaced him with a member of Ministry staff under the disguise of Polyjuice potion, and experts are currently attempting to discover what, if anything, has already occurred against our favour." Harry was momentarily dumbstruck. Surely that was the sort of thing they would encourage the _Prophet_ to print? "We have been unable to make this public, however, as then everyone would know that the current Muggle Minister is an impostor." Well that at least made sense.

"But we know there's at least one spy in the ministry," Harry said. "Voldemort might already know about the impostor."

"We?" Harry noticed his mistake too late. "So you're in with the Order of the Phoenix lot, are you?" Scrimgeour questioned.

"We don't know any more than you do," Harry said flatly, "except for this." With a flourish, Harry produced a scroll of parchment from within his robes. "Names and addresses of known Death Eaters," Harry said. "In return for the release of Stan Shunpike, Mundungus Fletcher, and anyone else wrongly arrested."

Scrimgeour gazed at Harry, considering him for a few long moments. "Agreed," he said. Harry handed over the parchment, and stood, preparing to leave. Scrimgeour also stood. "I trust we will meet again soon, Mr Potter?"

"Yes, I think so. I'll be in touch," Harry said. He shook the Minister's hand and let himself out.

Percy was sitting at his desk in the adjacent room. He looked up when Harry came in. "All done, Mr Potter?" Percy asked in a very dull voice.

"Yes," Harry said, "for now."

"Would you like me to escort you back to the atrium?" Percy offered.

"No thanks, I can find my own way." Harry managed a smile, and then rapidly left the room.

Rather than heading directly back to the atrium, Harry took a small detour to Arthur Weasley's office, his wand permanently at the ready, just in case he came across anyone untoward. Mr Weasley, who was expecting Harry, looked delighted as his visitor let himself into the office, which was only marginally bigger than the misuse of Muggle artefacts office had been. "Harry! Lovely to see you," Mr Weasley said, shaking Harry's hand.

"Good to see you, too," Harry replied truthfully, a genuine smile accompanying the greeting.

"How did it go?"

"Not bad. He's going to release Mundungus and the others, and he didn't give me too much hassle."

"Good, good. Listen, Harry, I've got to run, unfortunately. Tonks asked me to give you this." Arthur handed a large blank enveloped to Harry, which was heavy with the many sheets of parchment contained within. Puzzled as to what it could be, Harry took it, and glanced at Mr Weasley, who shrugged. "Come on, we'll go down together." With that, Arthur took Harry by the elbow and steered him out of his office. They walked down the corridor together, and didn't chat in the lift because they were joined by a wizard Arthur didn't know, so couldn't trust. The unknown wizard stared silently and unblinkingly at Harry all the way back down to the atrium, so Harry was inordinately glad when the lift shuddered to a halt at the grate slid back open. Harry followed Mr Weasley to join one of the out-going queues. "Give my love to Ron and Hermione," Arthur said, as he grabbed a handful of Floo powder and stepped into the green flames. Harry watched him disappear in a whirl of ash, and then took a handful of the powder himself. Stepping into the grate, he announced his destination as quietly as he dared, and saw the busy atrium swirl away as he went spinning through the Floo network, making sure to keep his elbows tucked in.

When he had stopped spinning, Harry stepped out of the fireplace at Grimmauld Place and brushed the soot off his robes. Hermione was sitting nearby; Harry noticed her because of the scratching of her quill on the parchment. "Hi," Harry said.

Hermione looked up at the sound of his voice. "Harry, how'd it go?" she asked.

"It was…" Harry started, but stopped suddenly, and his hand flew to his forehead. Without knowing how he got there, Harry felt his skull collide with the floor, and he knew he was screaming.


	19. Chapter 19 Morsmordre

**Chapter 19 – Morsmordre**

Harry opened his eyes to discover Hermione's face very close to his, blurred by his imperfect vision. Moaning, Harry blinked but the quality of his sight didn't improve, allowing him to numbly conclude that his glasses had either fallen off or broken, though, knowing his luck, it was probably the latter. Hermione's face was white with anxiety.

"Harry! Are you okay?" she asked, her voice panicky.

"Uh," Harry grunted in reply. His head was throbbing, but otherwise he felt alright. He was more shaken by what had seared through his consciousness before he fell than by the fall itself. "M'okay," Harry said and pushed himself up onto his knees.

"Here," Hermione said, passing him his glasses, which she had just expertly repaired. "What happened?"

"I don't know, exactly," Harry said, replacing his glasses and absently rubbing his scar. "It was like the visions I used to get before he started using Occlumency against me." Hermione did not have to ask whom Harry meant. "It was like he let his guard down or something. Maybe he just got so angry he, I dunno, lost control or something." Harry frowned.

"He was angry?" Hermione asked, her anxiety having not abated by a measurable degree.

"Yeah," Harry said. He ran a hand through his hair and carefully pushed himself to his feet. Hermione stood up beside him. "Angry about all sorts of stuff." Harry picked the envelope from Tonks up off the floor, and carried it with him, hoping that Hermione wouldn't pry, but knowing that he was hoping for a miracle.

"Like what?" Hermione asked, eyeing the envelope suspiciously, but following Harry to the sofa, where they both sat down.

"The goblins won't join him," Harry said, feeling as he had in his fifth year; he knew what he was saying was true, but he didn't know how he knew it. "He's angry that Flitwick's been rescued, the Minister still won't agree to meet with him," Harry listed monotonously, "and he can't find something he's looking for."

"The Malfoys?" Hermione offered.

"Yes, them, but something else, too."

"What else?" Hermione asked. Harry shrugged.

"No idea." He rubbed his scar again. "It's interesting though, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"That he could lose control like that; allow me access to his thoughts without meaning to." Harry settled into silent contemplation. Hermione, to her credit, did wait almost a minute, before asking,

"What's that you've got there?" indicating the papers Arthur had given to him.

"Erm, something from Tonks. I haven't had a look yet," Harry said. He had an inkling what the envelope contained, but he wanted to find out in privacy, not with Hermione's nose over his shoulder. "I'll be back down in a bit," he said, promptly standing up and heading towards the hallway. He wanted a look at his papers and a think about what he had just experienced.

"That's fine," Hermione said, "if you're sure you're okay." Harry waved her off and continued the trek to his bedroom.

When he was alone, Harry slipped the envelope off the several sheets of parchment contained within. The top sheet displayed a short note, in what Harry recognised as Tonks' handwriting.

_I thought you might want a look at these. If you have any questions about any of it, just ask me or Kingsley. See you soon! _

Harry placed the note aside, and read the title of the pamphlet below it: 'Notes for completing your Auror training application forms'. Harry felt his mouth spread into a smirk, even as his insides seemed to turn to porridge. He briefly considered sitting and filling out the forms immediately, so he could return them to Tonks at the Order meeting that evening, but refrained as he had a session with Tenuit soon approaching, and he was still thinking too much about what had happened after his meeting with Scrimgeour to really concentrate on anything else. If Harry had indeed been allowed access to Voldemort's thoughts, even briefly, that meant that there was a chance he could access them again. It also meant, of course, that Voldemort could still get inside Harry's head if he wanted to. Harry was torn again between wanting to work harder at occluding his mind all the time, and knowing that if that happened, he wouldn't be able to receive accidental clues. Still, Voldemort had been angry enough to let his guard down, which Harry knew he could work to his advantage – he just had to figure out how. 

Harry was still thinking about how he could use Voldemort's instability for his gain when he reached his lesson with Professor Tenuit, where he stunned them both by successfully performing Insequoran on his first attempt. He was still thinking about it at the Order meeting that night, where Flitwick told them all how, under the imperious curse, he had been helping Voldemort to create an army of winged Inferi, charmed to be resistant to fire. Harry only paused his train of thought when Tonks arrived late, with the news that Seamus Finnigan's mother and father had been found dead with the Dark Mark floating above their house.

"How _horrible_," Hermione squeaked, tears already forming in her eyes. "Why would they do that?"

"No idea," Tonks said. "Mrs Finnigan worked for the Ministry for five or six weeks about three years ago, but her husband was a Muggle, so we have no idea what You-Know-Who wanted with them."

The only pattern the Order had so far been able to discern with regard to Voldemort's killings was that there wasn't one. Harry knew Voldemort to be irrational and impulsive, but just killing random wizarding families seemed unlikely, even for him.

As the evening progressed, Harry reported that his meeting with Scrimgeour went well, and he would arrange another meeting soon. He told them about the Ministry's control of the Muggle Minister; this news shocked even those who worked at the Ministry.

"That information must be kept very close to the Minister," Shacklebolt offered, now fully recovered from the injuries he obtained trying to protect the Mggle Prime Minister from the Death Eaters.

"He knows there's a spy within the Ministry, so I guess he's just keeping it as quiet as possible," Harry said.

The meeting seemed to go on forever, but eventually concluded with Fred and George distributing rings to everyone. "We've charmed them all with a really strong tracker," George said.

"If you find yourself in a tight spot, just say the password and the tracker will initiate automatically," Fred added.

George explained: "If someone's ring is activated, everyone else's will get hot, and if you apparate, it'll take you straight to where the charm was activated."

"Nifty, aren't they?" Harry inwardly agreed that they were pretty nifty, and he was impressed that the twins had managed to construct something so useful, with what was evidently highly advanced charm work.

"The password is Morsmordre," George told them with a flourish. Only Molly Weasley failed to appreciate the irony.

"That's really very clever," Harry heard Hermione whisper to Fred, who winked conspiratorially, and replied,

"The idea was yours, Hermione, with the DA galleons. We just extended it, that's all." Hermione positively glowed with pride.

As the assembled Order began to depart, it became obvious that Hermione wanted to discuss the rings at length. Humouring her, the twins decided that the five of them should all stay at Grimmauld Place for dinner, so they could allow Hermione ample opportunity to ask any questions she desired, whilst simultaneously inflating their already much engorged egos. Fred and George accompanied Hermione to the kitchen, as she had volunteered to cook. Harry remained in his seat, absently rubbing the tip of his index finger in a figure of eight on the worn tabletop. Ron plonked himself opposite Harry and emitted an audible sigh. "Everything okay, Ron?" Harry asked, looking up.

"Yeah, fine," Ron said, but he sounded glum.

Harry wasn't usually one to press matters, but he would welcome the distraction from his thoughts, which had pretty much been Voldemort-centric since that afternoon. "C'mon," he encouraged, "What is it?"

Ron turned a little pink before hesitantly answering. "It's just that, well, you know, I could never come up with a cool tracking charm like that, or an insubstantiality potion or anything clever," he moaned. Harry blinked at him. "I just feel a bit – I dunno – useless, I guess." Harry frowned.

"Don't be daft," he said, in a consoling sort of way. "You're not useless at all. Quite useful, really, if you think about it."

"You think?" Ron said, not sounding convinced. This time it was Harry's turn to sigh; being the youngest of six highly successful brothers must be a bit crushing, after all, even if one of them was a prat. Still, Harry preferred Ron to any of them, and he sensed his friend needed a bit of a boost, so he tried his best.

"Of course. You keep Hermione distracted when I need her out my hair, and that makes you very useful," Harry said. Ron managed a weak smile, but Harry thought he ought to try harder than that. "Plus you've been great with helping to find Horcruxes. Not to mention you can do non-verbal duelling, and you can turn people into toads. I bet Fred and George can't do that," Harry said, feeling triumphant; Ron was now grinning.

"Yeah, you're right," Ron said. "I bet they can't do that." Without another word he stood up and left for the kitchen, obviously feeling much better. Harry looked down at the ring now in its new resting place on the middle finger of his left hand. He'd never been one for wearing jewellery, but with the fake Horcrux locket around his neck and the tracking ring on his finger, Harry was beginning to get used to the feeling. Perhaps he would even go out and buy himself a new outfit when things were a little less gloomy. Harry idly twisted the ring, imagining himself in clothes that weren't either Hogwarts uniform or Dudley's cast-offs. So enrapturing was this thought, that when Ron reappeared a moment later, Harry started a little. He did a double take, and saw that Ron was carrying two fat orange toads, one in each hand. Harry laughed as Ron placed the toads on the table.

"Now stay here and don't give Harry any trouble," he told them in a firm voice, though he didn't quite manage to keep the smirk off his face.

"Nice one," Harry said, grinning. The toads turned to him and Harry could swear they were glaring at him.

"Thanks," Ron replied, looking distinctly pleased with himself. "I'll just go help Hermione finish up." He turned and strutted from the room. Harry turned his attention to the toads.

"You deserve it, you know," Harry said. He refused to turn them back, so the transfigured twins decided to amuse him by playing leapfrog along the length of the table. When they morphed back into their normal selves several minutes later, they landed in heap in front of Harry, which, thankfully, gave him enough time to leap from the table and scurry down to the kitchen before the twins could initiate any plans of revenge.

When Fred and George finally took their leave, Harry was so exhausted by the day's events that he fell straight asleep, only staying awake long enough to bid Fawkes goodnight. However, he was continuously awakened by strange dreams and repeats of the vision, if you could call it that, he had experienced earlier, so by the time the sun rose he was left feeling even more weary than when he had gone to bed. Frustrated, Harry kicked off the blankets and headed down to the kitchen for some strong coffee. He found Hermione already there eating toast and reading the Prophet. Harry saw his picture smiling at him from he front page, which did nothing to improve his mood. Noticing the dark look on his face, Hermione said, "It's just a report on your meeting with Scrimgeour."

"Well that ought to piss him off, at any rate," Harry said, his face making evident that 'him' meant Voldemort.

Hermione smirked, but Harry continued scowling. If Voldemort hadn't figured out that he was going about getting a meeting with the minister the wrong way, then he was just never going to learn. Deciding he didn't need the coffee after all, Harry turned on his tail and stormed from the kitchen.

"Harry wait!" Hermione called after him, but a few minutes later she heard the front door slam, and knew Harry wouldn't be coming back for a while.

It was raining heavily and wind was whistling through leafless trees. Harry was frustrated and needed to get out of the house. He decided to take the opportunity to once again visit the remaining Malfoys. He'd chosen to fly there and back to pass the time, though he was regretting it now as the icy rain beat down upon him in sheets. Harry had wrapped himself up tightly in many layers and promised himself that he would take some pepper-up potion as soon as he returned, but at that moment he felt frozen onto his broom. The impervious charm Hermione taught him to help with Quidditch ensured that Harry could see as far as was humanly possible, though with water pouring from grey skies, it wasn't very far. Flying flat out, Harry was at the ocean in just over an hour. Before leaving the shore, he checked the disillusionment charm was still in place and pulled his invisibility cloak more securely around him to offer extra protection and warmth. Harry found the hut with a lot less difficulty this time. He hovered down beside it, careful to avoid any windows, and cast _interio sonorous_ through the wall.

"It keeps going off," he heard Narcissa simper. "That's the second time this month." Harry heard rapid footsteps approaching the window and dropped lower towards the turbulent ocean waves.

"I cannot find any fault with the alarms," came a sneering voice that sent chills down Harry's already shivering spine. What in Merlin's name was Snape doing there? "I must therefore conclude that this safe house I provided for you is not as safe as I had imagined."

"Provided?" came the drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. "House?" he scoffed. Snape ignored him.

"It would appear that someone has been keeping an eye on you, and that someone is here right now." Harry felt his heart thudding in his throat. "Come quickly," Snape hissed, "We must get out of here!"

Harry barely thought about what he was going to do until he'd already done it. He just knew that he couldn't let these three Death Eaters escape to an unknown location. Concentrating harder than he ever had before, Harry cast _reducto_ on the invisible tumbledown building in front of him. With great groaning and creaking, the walls shook. The cloaking charm flickered then dissipated, so the shack was fully visible as it crashed in clumps of wood and stone into the raging sea. Three panic-stricken figures cowered as the building collapsed around them. As the rubble was still falling, they ran together and Snape grabbed an arm of each of the Malfoys. Harry realized with horror what they were about to do. Without thinking of the consequences, he yelled "_Insequoran_!" and felt a horrible pulling sensation as Snape whipped around and disapparated.

Moments later, Harry gulped down a couple of mouthfuls of cold, stale air. He looked around and didn't recognise where he was. Snape, along with Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, was standing in the centre of the room, just feet away; they hadn't noticed him yet. Snape was whispering to them feverishly, and Harry knew he didn't have long before they either spotted him or moved again. As quietly as was humanly possible, Harry whispered "Morsmordre," and felt his ring become hot around the base of his finger. Unfortunately, Harry didn't have time to appreciate the wonder of the spell, as his whisper hadn't been quiet enough to save him from being heard. With a face contorted in what Harry was sure were equal amounts of anger and fear, Snape tuned to Harry, with his wand raised. Without even thinking about it, Harry created a protego charm so strong that Snape's spell rebounded into its caster's chest with such force that Snape flew back against the wall. Draco turned to stare at Harry, and there was definitely more fear in those grey eyes than any other emotion. Harry wasn't sure how to deal with the Malfoys – he wasn't even certain that Narcissa really was a Death Eater. Luckily, he was spared the necessity to decide as Snape pushed himself from the floor and cast Avada Kedavra. Knowing his shield would be useless against the killing curse, Harry barely thought as the green light rushed towards him, and moved lightening-fast out of the way. His astonishment at narrowly avoiding the curse was merely momentary, as he shot a stunning spell back at Snape. Unlike his advisory, Harry wasn't fighting to kill. Harry knew that death would be by far preferable to a lifetime in Azkaban, and he really wanted Snape to suffer.

As if they had been stunned into silence until that moment, Draco and Narcissa both reached for their wands as Snape raised his own. Harry experienced a split second of fleeting discomfort at having to duel three people at once before the room they were in was graced with the company of Moody, Tonks, Ron and Hermione. Several spells erupted all at once, and Harry instinctively cast a protective shield around the members of the Order of the Phoenix who had come to his aid. He saw Hermione stumble backwards a couple of steps and his heart leapt into his throat, but she righted herself in only a second and sent a return spell that Harry couldn't identify, because she had cast it wordlessly. Turning his attention back to the duel, Harry heard another shouted killing curse. Instinctively he ducked to the side, inwardly praying to any and every deity that it had missed its target. His eyes shot up as he heard a strangled cry, and saw, as if in slow motion, Narcissa Malfoy fall ungracefully to the ground, while the air around Harry and his friends was tinged with a greenish haze. Snape, perhaps accepting defeat or acknowledging he had just committed another, if accidental, murder, sensibly but cowardly disapparated. In a shout driven by raw rage, the only remaining Malfoy cried "Crucio!" Still staring at the spot Snape had stood a split second previously, Tonks hadn't time to react before she was hit with the curse. As more spells were fired, Harry instinctively threw up another protective shield. Tonks' anguished cries ceased, and the room they were in became silent.

"Potter! Leave him be!" Moody barked. Harry glanced bewildered at Malfoy, knowing that he hadn't done anything to him because he hadn't cast anything but shields for over a minute. It was with a very strange sensation, which felt to Harry as though he had just been catapulted into space, that Harry realised he had cast the shield around Malfoy, and not around himself. What had he been thinking? No, it was obvious he hadn't been thinking at all. Yet as he stood there, refusing to lower the charm, Harry knew what thoughts had governed his actions. There was that niggling feeling again. Draco hadn't killed Dumbledore; he had lowered his wand. Draco, who had just witnessed the death of his mother, his father already killed in Azkaban, wasn't a killer. He wasn't a nice person after all, but as someone wise had once told him, the world wasn't split into good people and Death Eaters.

"Harry! Put your shield down!" Ron commanded.

"No," Harry said, quietly but firmly. Every pair of eyes in the room turned to stare at him, but Harry was used to people staring, and utterly unfazed by it. "He's not going to kill anyone. Are you, Malfoy?"

Draco looked as though someone had just slapped him. He looked hurt, dazed and confused, and not as angry as one might have expected. Harry felt as though he understood. Draco's life as he knew it had effectively ended, and there was nothing he could do about any of it. "I hate you, Potter," he said viciously. Harry didn't doubt him.

* * *

**A/N: Hi there! Wow, I thought this story would only be 20 chapters long, but that was Chapter 19 and I can tell you it's got a while to go yet. So what did you think?**


	20. Chapter 20 Silence and Secrets

**Chapter 20 – Silence and Secrets**

Tonks suggested they leave before Snape came back with a bunch of his Death Eater chums. Harry thought that if Snape had been hiding the Malfoys from Voldemort he would do no such thing, but he agreed they shouldn't stay where they were, so he didn't argue. Tonks appropriated Malfoy's wand and offered her house as temporary headquarters. Moody nodded his acceptance but nobody said anything. Harry guessed it was because, like him, no one could think of anything to say.

Tonks had a nice house, in Harry's opinion. It was bright and airy with large comfortable furniture and lots of mess and clutter. Aunt Petunia would go spare if she ever saw it – books, clothes and an assortment of other miscellaneous objects lay strewn across the floor and almost every available surface. Tonks seemed somewhat unperturbed that her house looked vaguely like someone had ransacked it. "Sit in there," she said, gesturing towards the living room, "and I'll be right back."

Moody led the way, his wooden leg barely making any noise on the thick pile of the lemon coloured carpet. Ron stood glaring at Malfoy; Hermione didn't move to follow, either, and she was looking at Harry as if she'd never seen him before. Harry looked pointedly at Malfoy and nodded towards the door. Malfoy followed Moody in, but not without gracing Harry with a look of utter loathing. With a last 'I don't care if you don't like it' look at his friends, Harry went to sit in the living room. Moody and Draco were sitting next to each other on one of the two large cerise sofas, and Harry strongly suspected that Malfoy hadn't adopted that position out of choice. He took a seat on the opposite sofa; Hermione sat on his right, but Ron remained standing in the doorway, unwilling to involve himself any more that was strictly necessary. They sat in strained silence, everyone avoiding eye contact (except Moody, who had his magical eye constantly trained on Malfoy) until Tonks returned several uncomfortable minutes later, and she wasn't alone. Harry blinked at Lupin, wondering why Tonks had asked him to join them, or if he had maybe already been there.

"Could we have a word, Harry?" Lupin said gently.

Harry nodded and stood up. As he walked past Ron, he whispered, "Sit down and stop glaring like that." He didn't want Malfoy to notice any weakness, especially not in his friendship with Ron, which the Slytherin might try to use to his advantage.

Harry followed Lupin and Tonks into the kitchen. He accepted the cup of tea Tonks offered, and began to sip it slowly while Tonks and Lupin, standing next to each other, appraised him. "I'm impressed, Harry," Lupin began. Harry nearly spat his tea out.

"You are?" he asked. He wasn't sure he had done anything impressive.

"Of course," Lupin said, smiling kindly. "Tonks told me you managed a protego shield around everyone strong enough to reflect an unforgivable curse."

"I did?" Harry said, beginning to wonder if maybe this was all a very surreal dream.

"The one that got Narcissa Malfoy," Tonks said, and she was smiling at Harry, too. "It bounced off your shield and hit her."

"It can't have done," Harry said, reasonably. "Protego charms aren't strong enough to reflect killing curses." Though as he said it, he wondered how else had the curse hit Narcissa, and what had caused his shield to glow green.

"It's certainly generally believed that that is the case," Lupin said, "but since I assume it's not a test the Ministry have carried out for themselves, for obvious reasons, it is both possible and apparent that they guessed wrong."

"Huh," Harry said, and that's all he could think to say, so he gulped his tea instead.

"It was undoubtedly noble of you to prevent anyone from incapacitating Mr Malfoy once Severus had left," Lupin said, "but have you considered what to do with him now?" Harry stopped drinking and looked at the now concerned faces before him.

"No," he said quietly. "But Malfoy hasn't really done anything wrong." He sensed they were about to interrupt, so he hastily continued. "I mean it! He did poison Ron but that was an accident, and the necklace was an accident too. He didn't even try to curse Dumbledore, I was there, I saw it. Okay so he did put Madam Rosmerta under the Imperious curse and lead a whole load of Death Eaters into the castle, but he didn't think he had a choice – Voldemort was going to kill his father! Then he did that anyway, and now his mother's dead, too, and Voldemort will kill him if he finds him and I just don't think he deserves it." By the time Harry had finished, he was feeling pretty confused himself. Since when had he started caring about what happened to Malfoy? Maybe Hermione was right – maybe he did just have a 'saving people' thing. Deep in his heart, though, Harry knew that if Dumbledore were still alive, he wouldn't have wanted Malfoy dead, either.

"Okay, then," Lupin said, after a moment's reflection. "Mr Malfoy needs to be kept hidden from Lord Voldemort and ideally prevented from having contact with anyone else. Do you consider that to be correct?"

"Yes," Harry replied, "that sounds about right."

"Well then perhaps it is best if he is kept under the watch of one of the Order at all times."

"Yes," Harry repeated. He had a sudden urge to be sick, as he thought Lupin might suggest Malfoy live at Grimmauld Place with him, Ron and Hermione. That wasn't a good plan, and Harry opened his mouth to say so, when Lupin said,

"I wonder how you feel about Mr Malfoy coming to live with me?" Harry was so utterly shocked he could only blink and stutter. "I assure you I could keep an eye on him and perhaps threaten him with my – ah – capabilities should he attempt to cause me any trouble."

"That's – that's…" Harry struggled to find the words. "Are you sure?" he blurted. "I mean, he is a foul git, you know, but he probably needs someone right now. I think, I mean, if you're sure, I think it's a good idea."

"Excellent," Lupin said, back to smiling. He was looking far more cheerful these days, Harry reflected. "You may break the good news to him, then." Wondering when he would regret doing this, and for how long, Harry returned to the living room. Ron had sat down next to Hermione and was looking as surly as ever, but otherwise the scene had not changed while Harry had been absent.

"There's tea in the kitchen," Harry said, not wanting to have to talk to Malfoy with Ron in the room, afraid his friend might lose control and end up cursing both of them. Luckily, Hermione took the hint and forcibly dragged Ron out of the living room.

"You can take care of him, Potter," Moody said with conviction, and clumped out after the others. Harry reassumed his seat opposite Malfoy, who now looked so desolate he might even be on the verge of tears. Harry thought he looked pathetic.

"Listen to me," Harry said, surreptitiously checking his wand was in his pocket where he expected it to be, just in case he should need it. "I don't like you. I don't really care what happens to you, but I wouldn't be able to sleep properly if I just left you to the Death Eaters."

"Perfect Potter," Draco muttered.

"So," Harry said loudly, ignoring the remark, "on behalf of the Order of the Phoenix, I have decided to place you in temporary care of Remus Lupin."

"No way!" Malfoy yelled, as if he had a choice in the matter.

"Malfoy, stop being stupid and try using your brain," Harry said, inordinately pleased that Tonks had had the ingenuity to remove Draco's wand; he was sure that he would otherwise be on the end of a particularly painful hex right now. "You can't stay at Order HQ, you might have an opportunity to give up its whereabouts, and we can't have that. You're certainly not staying with me. Quite frankly, I think you should be thanking Lupin for allowing you to stay with him. If I were him I'd turn you out to fend for yourself," Harry said, not really meaning that but enjoying the effect of his words nonetheless.

"So just turn me out then!" Draco spat. "I didn't ask for your protection, did I?"

"Of course not," Harry said, momentarily stumped. "No-one ever asks for my protection, but they get it, regardless."

"Didn't do a very good job of protecting Dumbledore, did you?" Malfoy jeered.

"SHUT UP!" Harry roared, on his feet within an instant. Draco smirked; he knew he had hit a nerve and opened his mouth to continue, but no sound came out. He tried again, but for all his efforts he simply couldn't make any noise. He resorted to just glaring instead, but Harry barely noticed. Through his resentment at the truth in Draco's jibe, the bitterness this realisation had occurred, and the bewilderment at having somehow cast a silencing charm without meaning to, Harry was speechless himself. He collected himself enough to say, "You've caused enough trouble. Go live with Lupin and don't give him any hassle."

Harry sat down again and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, trying to ease the tension that had settled there. He briefly considered telling Malfoy that the house was actually Harry's, that Dumbledore had left it to him, and how much it hurt to have Malfoy stay there when Harry hadn't even visited himself yet. This might do more harm than good, though, so Harry kept his mouth shut.

Harry thanked Tonks, Lupin and Moody, and took Ron and Hermione back to Grimmauld Place. None of them could really explain why, but they didn't feel like talking to each other. Harry went back upstairs and shut himself in his room, immersing himself in studies for a while. That was the advantage in not being at school: sometimes Harry felt like he wanted to study.

After a couple of quiet, uneventful days in which Harry had thoroughly revised the process of brewing Amortentia, a distraction arrived in the form of an owl tapping at the window. Harry turned and gasped in surprise. "Hedwig!" Rushing to the window, Harry let her in and spent several minutes fussing his owl, letting her know just how much he had been missing her company, and that although he liked Fawkes, it just wasn't the same. Hedwig had to resort to nipping his finger to remind him that she had come bearing a letter. Harry continued to stroke her as he read the letter from Hagrid.

_Dear Harry_

_I know I shouldn't send Hedwig but she really wanted to see you. Everything here is going okay, there's been no trouble a Hogwarts. Grawp's come a long way, he's starting to help with some jobs and getting a good grasp of English now. Sorry I can't be at Order meetings but I'd rather stay here and keep an eye on things, I know you'll understand._

_Much love, Hagrid._

Harry grinned. He allowed himself a moment of silent reminiscing about his encounters with Grawp before returning his attention back to Hedwig. She didn't seem to want to stay long, though, so Harry scribbled a quick reply to Hagrid, and made a very slow job of attaching it to Hedwig's outstretched leg. She seemed to notice he was intentionally taking a long time, and started shuffling about in impatience. Harry laughed. "Alright, you can go. At least I know Hagrid's taking good care of you. I'll have you back some day soon, okay?" He stroked her head once more and was sad to watch her fly away. Sighing, Harry sat back down and set himself to the task he had been about to star: writing a letter to Lupin. He knew what he wanted to say, but was having difficulty writing what he wanted whilst keeping out important information, just in case the letter was intercepted. Finally, Harry took up his quill, and wrote,

_Dear Moony_

_Thank you again for taking care of him. What would I do without you? If he gives you any trouble threaten him with my wrath. Keep it as quiet as possible for now – let's try and get rid of the main problem, and then we'll deal with the smaller issues._

_Prongs Jnr_

Harry re-read his letter, decided that if it fell into the wrong hands it wouldn't make much sense, and sealed the envelope. Perhaps he'd ask Fawkes to deliver it later, rather than waiting till the next meeting to pass it on.

Standing and stretching, Harry decided to head down to the kitchen in search of some lunch. He met Hermione on the way, though, and she told him that she's just put soup out in the dining room. "I'm just on my way to fetch Ron down so we can all eat together," Hermione said. Harry nodded and continued down to the dining room, knowing that Hermione must have some ulterior motive in getting them all to eat together at lunchtime. Usually, on the rare occasions this happened, it was purely by coincidence. Harry sat himself at the table and idly began picking at the bread Hermione had laid out to eat with the soup. Before long, he heard approaching voices, and looked up expectantly as Hermione and Ron entered. "I just thought it would be nice if we all sat and ate together," Hermione was insisting.

"Whatever you say," Ron replied, obviously unconvinced by her assertions. Harry hadn't spoken to Ron much recently; Ron seemed to think that Malfoy would have been better off dead with the rest of his family, and didn't really understand why Harry thought otherwise. Still, they weren't likely to allow Malfoy to come between them as friends, so Harry wasn't too worried about it, and wasn't really surprised when Ron greeted him with a slightly awkward but genuinely cheerful, "Alright, Harry?"

"Not bad," Harry replied, grinning and helping himself to soup. "I'm just wondering what your girlfriends' dragged us both down here for." Ron shrugged and Hermione directed an exasperated sigh at Harry.

"Okay, fine, then," she said. "I thought it was a good idea to have a little chat."

"There," Ron patronised her, "That wasn't so bad, was it?" Hermione pursed her lips, causing Harry to snort into his soup. Ignoring him, Hermione dished out Ron's serving, and then her own while she continued talking.

"It's just been a while since we tried finding Horcruxes or anything, that's all," she said, sobering Harry in an instant. She was right, of course. With the werewolf attacks, the injury to Shacklebolt, finding Flitwick and the Malfoys and his lessons with Tenuit, Harry hadn't given much thought to the Horcruxes. He started to regret it, which Hermione seemed to sense, as she headed him off early. "Not just you, Harry, all of us. Also, I'm sure there must be a pattern to these attacks on wizarding families, and I want to find out what it is." She sounded determined, more like her usual bossy self than she had for a good while. Harry was pleased she was back to her old ways.

"Okay, about this pattern, then," Harry said, as he'd been thinking along the same lines himself. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Not yet," Hermione said slyly, "but I have an idea where we might found out."

"Where?" Ron and Harry asked together.

"Talk to Higgs about it." Harry thought he had misheard.

"Higgs? That Slytherin prat?" Ron asked, which confirmed Harry's suspicions that he had heard correctly.

"His parents were murdered by Voldemort," Hermione tried to explain to them, "so he might have an idea. I think we should start by seeing if we can find any link at all between the families that were killed and follow it on from there." Harry couldn't argue that it seemed as good a starting point as any, but he didn't really fancy the idea of having a chat with Higgs. "Shall I get Moody to arrange a meeting with him for us?" Hermione suggested. Harry wondered why only a moment ago he was pleased she was bossy. He played with the dregs in his soup bowl, feeling despondent.

Less than one week later, Harry and Ron sat rigidly in the living room, as unwilling as each other to put past feuds behind them and discuss Order matters with a Slytherin. "Do try to behave yourselves," Hermione cautioned for the umpteenth time as she left them to go and answer the door, Mrs Black's piercing screeches following her down the hallway. She returned with Higgs, who looked equally as unhappy to be there. "Take a seat," Hermione said as she closed the door to block out Mrs Black's screaming. Higgs did so grudgingly, and sat staring at his hands clasped in his lap. Only Hermione was maintaining the false camaraderie. "So," she said brightly, "we're all on the same side, aren't we? How about we try acting like it." Harry, Ron and Higgs all shuffled in their seats but said nothing. Harry was silently trying to remind himself that just because Higgs's parents had been killed, it didn't mean that they were Death Eaters. He said this aloud to Ron. Higgs overheard, and didn't take it as the persuasion of peace that had been intended.

"You want to see my arm, Potter?" Higgs yelled and flashed the bare skin where, if he were a Death Eater, there ought to be the Dark Mark.

"No," Harry said calmly, "just because you were in Slytherin it doesn't mean you're a Death Eater. Slughorn's not a Death Eater, but Wormtail is, and he was in Gryffindor," Harry said, trying to remind himself as well as Higgs that none of them were there to judge each other.

"We don't think you're a Death Eater," Hermione said, glaring at Ron and Harry as if she was telling them rather than Higgs. Harry sighed, feeling it was probably down to him to breach the hostility.

"Higgs," he began, but was interrupted as Higgs said,

"Terence. That's my name." That sounded vaguely familiar to Harry, like perhaps Lee Jordan had shouted the name on the Quidditch commentary seven years ago.

"Terence, then," Harry amended. "We're on the same side. We just want to know a bit about your parents."

"They weren't Death Eaters either!" Higgs said defensively.

"He didn't say they were! Just shut up and listen," Ron said, while Hermione scolded him.

Trying hard not to smile at Ron's forceful loyalty, Harry said, "We think there must be a reason that Voldemort's been killing these specific families." Harry was impressed that Terence didn't even flinch at the name. "We just wanted to see if you had any clues, or could maybe tell us something that would help us to find any sort of pattern, or something."

Higgs shrugged. "I dunno why they were killed, I guessed that he'd asked them to join them and they wouldn't. Don't get me wrong, they thought some of his ideas were great, like about purebloods having more power than Muggleborns, but they weren't really into his ways of getting what he wanted."

"That doesn't explain why he killed the Finnigans or the Murdochs," Hermione said, "because they were all rather vociferously opposed to him." Harry refrained himself from reminding Hermione that Mrs Finnigan had been very anti-Harry for a while – he felt it would be churlish at this juncture.

"My Dad worked at the Ministry once, years ago, but that's the only link I could find with the Finnigans," Terence admitted that he had been trying to find connections himself.

"The Murdochs worked at the Ministry, too," Hermione said. Harry didn't know when she'd been researching the other families Voldemort had murdered, but she obviously had. "What did your Dad do?" Higgs shrugged.

"He was an Unspeakable. I've no idea what he did. He was a secret keeper, too, but I have no idea what for." Only Hermione didn't seem to think they had hit a dead end.

"Well, that might not be it, but…" She promptly left the room, leaving the others sitting in an uneasy silence.

"So, er… what do you do now," Harry directed his question at Terence, who had left Hogwarts not long after Harry had joined.

"I did work in an apothecary's," Terence replied, "but that closed in the summer. Now I'm working on developing my own range of potions."

"What for?" Ron asked.

"Skin abnormalities," Higgs replied bluntly.

"Oh," Harry said, not really sure how to respond to that.

"Yeah," Higgs continued, "I got the idea from the potion I take to calm my eczema. The active ingredient is dragon's blood" (Harry nodded in understanding – he'd read about the healing properties of dragon's blood in his book) "and I'm experimenting with that to see the effects it has on calming other skin irritations and blemishes."

"Sounds like hard work," Harry said, deciding against the admission that he, too, had tried developing his own potion, because he wasn't sure people should know just yet. He was struggling to think of something else to say when, luckily, Hermione whirled back into the room, declaring,

"Mrs Parson had been a secret keeper, too, before your Dad worked at the Ministry," she said to Higgs, "and she was an Unspeakable."

"You think there's a connection?" Harry asked, wondering how in the world Hermione knew all this.

"Maybe," Hermione replied. "But I don't see there's much chance of us finding out what secret it was they were keeping, seeing as they're dead and their job was to not let anybody know."

Higgs didn't stay much longer, but welcomed Hermione to call on him again if she felt he would be of any use. Harry suspected Higgs had a little bit of a crush on Hermione, though he refrained from teasing her because he knew it would upset Ron. In fact, when Hermione returned from seeing Higgs to the door, she was a little pink-cheeked. Harry wasn't concerned though; he could barely even imagine Hermione being disloyal. For his part, Ron seemed completely oblivious to the possibility of a rival, and had his eyebrows lowered in concentration. "So where did you find all this stuff about the other families that have been killed?" he asked Hermione.

"I've been keeping a scrapbook of anything in the Prophet that might be useful," she said, the pride in her fortuitous thinking shining through her would-be steady voice. Ron blinked at her, apparently torn between admiration and scorn.

"You're a right little swot, you know that?" he said fondly. Hermione beamed at him.

"I can't be sure, but I think all the victims might have worked with the Ministry at some point or other."

"So perhaps the reason he wanted them dead is something they worked on at the Ministry?" Harry suggested.

"That would be my guess, too," Hermione said, "but I don't know how we can ever find out what it is."

Harry sighed. "Is that a cue for me to arrange another meeting with the Minister?" he asked.

"It probably wouldn't hurt," Hermione replied, her expression apologetic.

"Ah well, I'd rather talk to Scrimgeour than Fudge any day," Harry said.

"That's the spirit," Ron grinned at him. "Look on the bright side of life!"

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**A/N: Chapter 20! Can you believe it? I'm not sure I can. See, I told you I'd work on updating faster! Look out for Chapter 21 Friday next week, if all things go to plan. Reviews make me write faster. Honestly, they do.**

**xx wi****ngedthing xx**


	21. Chapter 21 The Gramarye Crystal

**Chapter 21 – The Gramarye Crystal**

Harry was pacing the length of his bedroom. He had been doing this for quite some time, but his head was so full of thoughts that he was barely aware of his actions. He was thinking about the deaths of the people who had worked at the Ministry. They'd all been Secret Keepers, but Harry didn't know what for. He had an inkling, though, that he wasn't the only person trying to find out. The families of the Keepers had been killed, too, which made Harry suspect that Voldemort had killed their loved ones as an incentive to give up the secret, but when that wouldn't work he had killed them anyway. Yet if that was the case, Harry was astounded that so many witches and wizards had refused to divulge their secrets even on pain of death, both their own and their family members'. Even Higgs' parents had been killed, and they had agreed with some of Voldemort's ideals. The more Harry thought about it, the less it made sense. He just kept going round it circles and ending up with nothing. Harry's head was aching and he was starting to get dizzy. He promptly stopped pacing and fell heavily backwards onto his bed. He lay there for a few moments, silently splayed across the duvet, and tried to empty his mind. It was practically impossible, but on the positive side, if Voldemort did manage to read Harry's mind at the moment, he probably wouldn't be able to make any sense of it, either.

With what felt like great effort, Harry reached to his bedside table and picked up the stack of papers that rested thereupon. The top sheet was a letter from Lupin Harry had received earlier that day. Though he had written no names at all, Harry knew to whom Lupin was referring:

_We're getting along fine; he seems to have calmed down. We're working together so he can take his exams on time (with certain approvals received, of course). I haven't returned his weapon, yet; he will earn it back eventually._

_Best wishes._

Harry couldn't help but smirk at Lupin's reference to Malfoy's wand as a weapon, but nonetheless realised that was, in essence, an undeniable truth. Harry felt a little worry for the point when Malfoy's wand would be returned to him so he could practise for his NEWT examinations, but he felt far more concern for how Hermione would react if she discovered Malfoy was destined to take his NEWTs this year. The possibility that Malfoy could pass his exams before Hermione incensed Harry on his friend's behalf, and it made him want to concentrate more of his time on helping her to get through the syllabus.

Harry placed the letter aside and studied the next sheet: the cover page of the Auror applications. Harry had now had time to read through the instructions for completing the forms and had perused the forms themselves, but he had not yet begun filling in his details. It seemed a touch quixotic to be filling in forms for a chance to capture Dark wizards when he should really be devoting his time to destroying one such tyrant. He, Ron and Hermione still didn't know where to start looking for the last Horcrux, and the pressure to find it quickly was increasingly apparent to Harry with each passing day. Out of the looming unpleasantries of further deaths, Voldemort finding whatever it is he's looking for, successful completion of the winged Inferi army, or Malfoy taking his NEWTs before Hermione, Harry wasn't sure which he apprehended most fearfully.

His mind now thoroughly exhausted, Harry lowered the Auror information back onto the table and took a deep, calming breath. He just had to stay focused, that was all. Dumbledore thought Harry capable of achieving all this, and it would give Harry insurmountable pleasure to prove him right. This was a comforting thought and for the first time in several days, Harry felt almost peaceful.

He was disturbed from this peace by a knock at the door. Hermione poked her head round. "There you are, Harry. I haven't seen you all day," she said. Harry knew she hadn't seen him all day, because he'd been in his room all day, driving himself to the brink of insanity. "I just came to remind you that your meeting with the Minister is in an hour, and you might want to eat before you go," she said. Harry gritted his teeth, partly driven by frustration, but equally by exasperation. He felt like he was back in the Triwizard maze: he knew there was an end, but he couldn't see it and he didn't know how to get there, and there were all these obstacles trying to get in his way. At least this time he knew he would be facing Voldemort at the end, Harry thought duly.

"Alright, I'm ready," Harry said despondently. "I don't need any food, Scrimgeour puts a buffet out." Harry intended to make a joke, but he delivered it without enthusiasm and he wasn't sure Hermione picked up on it.

"Is everything alright?" Hermione asked, stepping closer to the bed where Harry lay staring up at the dingy ceiling.

"No, everything's not alright," Harry said, even though his voice was flat and void of emotion. "Everything is pretty damn awful, but thank you for asking," Harry glanced up and smiled at Hermione, who looked very confused.

"Well, that's good, then," she said distractedly, and retraced her steps back out of the room. Harry pushed himself up onto his elbows, and thought he should probably at least have a shower before he delighted the workers of the ministry by distracting them for the second time this year from their menial lives with his humbling presence.

Once again Harry travelled by Floo powder to the Ministry of Magic. Once again everyone stopped and stared at him as he passed, and once again Percy arrived almost immediately and escorted Harry up to the Minister for Magic's office. Harry didn't tease Percy this time, though; they barely spoke to each other, as Harry was still immersed in his own thoughts and Percy was a pompous fool.

Harry was admitted to Scrimgeour's office upon his arrival, and everything was exactly as it had been on his last visit. "Good afternoon, Harry, do take a seat," Scrimgeour offered. Harry smiled in response; he had decided that a friendship with the Minister wasn't a bad idea after all, and he intended to pursue it starting from today. Harry sat down on one of the comfortable leather sofas before helping himself to some egg mayonnaise sandwiches, which were cut into triangles with the crusts removed and served on a silver platter, the way Aunt Petunia used to serve sandwiches at the parties she sometimes had held, to which Harry was never invited.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice, Minister," Harry said in his well-practised innocent-but-powerful voice.

"It's my pleasure, Harry," Scrimgeour said, settling himself opposite. Harry wondered how the Minister would respond if Harry called _him_ by his first name, but decided, in consideration of his quest for friendship, to let it pass. "How can I help you?"

Harry thought Scrimgeour could probably help by telling him what secret it was the dead ministry workers had been keeping. He would bring him round to that slowly, though. "I thought we were due for another collaboration of knowledge," Harry said non-committally, selecting a large peach from the arrangement before him.

"I see," said the Minister.

"Well it makes sense to work together, doesn't it?"

"It does indeed."

"Right then," Harry said, having swallowed a mouthful of peach. "My friends and I," (Harry suspected Scrimgeour would understand Harry's friends to be the Order of the Phoenix, and Harry wasn't going to correct this assumption) "have noticed a pattern in the murders committed this year by Lord Voldemort."

"You have?" The Minister's tone was bored, but Harry saw his eyes widened.

"Yes," Harry nodded, "they all, at some stage, worked for the Ministry."

"Well I know that," Scrimgeour said in an irritated manner. "It's hardly breaking news."

"Well," Harry continued, apparently unfazed, "we suspect that they all did the same job for the Ministry, too. We think they were all Secret Keepers."

"There's no way you could know that," Scrimgeour said, though his interest was apparent. "Only a very few select people have access to lists of Ministry Secret Keepers."

"You mean someone could actually look at a list and see who was Keeping what?" Harry asked, horror-struck. If Hermione was right about all the victims being Secret Keepers, it was suddenly very easy to find the spy within the Ministry. Apparently Scrimgeour had reached the same conclusion, as he was looking at Harry with a fierce intensity quite different to his relaxed composure of just moments ago. "Can I see the list?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Absolutely not," Scrimgeour replied firmly.

"I'm not going to cause any more damage than has already been done," Harry insisted, and considering that what had already been done was murder, he had a secure sense that he wouldn't go back on his word. "If we look at the list, we can not only tell if the other victims really were Secret Keepers, but we'll be able to find out what secret it was they were keeping and that'll tell us what Voldemort's looking for!" Honestly, Harry thought, he really shouldn't have to explain such simple concepts to the Minister of Magic.

Scrimgeour considered Harry for several long moments before finally speaking. "Very well," he said, "I will look at the list and if your guesses turn out to be good guesses then I will share the information with you."

Harry was more than a little annoyed at being treated like a child, but he did understand the Minister's reasons. If Harry had a list of Secret Keepers, he certainly wouldn't want to go showing it around. "Alright," he conceded. "Shall I wait here?" Harry didn't think the Minister intended to check immediately, but Harry couldn't allow delay. Whatever Voldemort was looking for, Harry didn't want him to have it.

"Please do, Mr Potter."

Harry watched the Minister leave and helped himself to more of the fine food while he awaited his return.

Meanwhile, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood were in the library, researching blood-clotting spells. Madam Pomfrey had agreed to join Professor Obeah in overseeing that evening's DA so the fifth to seventh years could learn some basic healing spells, which, although rudimentary, could save lives in dire situations.

"Hey, Luna, this one looks good," Ginny said, shifting the book sideways so her companion could read, too. "It forms a temporary mesh over the specified area so no dirt or anything can get into the cut."

"If you chew seeds from a Zieba tree you grow new skin as soon as it's cut," Luna said dreamily. Amused, Ginny glanced up to find Luna wasn't even looking at the book, and was staring, as was as common now as it always had been, into space.

"Er, that's great," Ginny said. "If only we had some Zieba seeds," she laughed lightly. The Zieba tree, of course, did not exist, though Ginny couldn't deny that if it did exist, and the seeds really did encourage immediate regeneration, they would be useful things to have around. Ginny ceased her laughter as Madam Pince sent a stern glare in her direction. Ginny normally would have glared right back, but Professor McGonagall had told them all yesterday morning that the librarian's brother had been on the receiving end of a Dementor attack, and although he had retained his life, was now little more than corpse. It was a shame he hadn't been able to do a Patronus charm. Thanks to the DA, even some of the second years could now produce enough silvery mist to keep a Dementor at bay. Whenever Ginny thought of about conjuring a Patronus, she couldn't help but think of Harry. She hoped he was close to being ready to go after Voldemort, because she wasn't sure how much more misery the wizarding world could take before it snapped. Knowing Harry, though, he was working as hard as he could.

* * *

Harry had now consumed several sandwiches, a couple of soft peaches and two glasses of lemonade. He was just helping himself to a chocolate mint when the door opened and the Minister re-entered the room, looking rather harassed. Harry halted with the confection halfway to his mouth. 

"You were right," Scrimgeour said, raking his large, gnarled hands through his greying mane-like hair and sinking stiffly back into his seat. "Mr Pucey was the only individual with access to every Ministry Secret Keeper; he's now in Ministry custody." Harry's eyes were wide. "And yes, you were correct about the victims being Secret Keepers. They were all holding the location of the same object." Harry put the mint back down.

"Why would you need so many Secret Keepers for one item?" Harry asked, confused. "If one tells, doesn't that make the rest of them redundant?"

"Usually," Scrimgeour conceded. "The Ministry has a more advanced Fidelius system, Harry. Allow me to explain. Quite often, when the Ministry wishes to keep an object safe, we will keep the object in two, sometimes three different locations, and the object may move between the locations at random. Then we will have a Secret Keeper for each location."

"But that would mean you only needed three Secret Keepers," Harry reasoned, "and seven have been killed already."

"The item they were Keeping is particularly valuable, and so there were more stringent measures in place. The item was split into four separate components and each piece is being kept in three locations. Therefore, there are a total of twelve Keepers."

"Twelve?" Harry repeated. "That means there are only five left!"

"Correct."

"What if all the Keepers are killed? What happens then?"

"Then the charm is no longer in place and anyone who knows the location can speak it freely," Scrimgeour said.

"It was very clever of Voldemort to have Pucey as his spy, then," Harry said. "Not only could he lead him to the people who could divulge the location, but he could also offer a suitable Plan B." Harry thought he saw the corners of Scrimgeour's lips twitch, but he wasn't positive. "So," Harry said, digesting all this new information with difficulty, "what's the item you're trying so hard to protect?"

"The Gramarye Crystal."

Harry spluttered. "Is that the one that can turn you into a Muggle?" he asked, aghast.

"Effectively, yes, I suppose that's what it does."

"So that's what he's after…" Harry muttered, more to himself than the Minister. Yet it didn't really make much sense. Why would Voldemort want to turn people into Muggles? Didn't he hate Muggles?

"It has other powers, too, including the abilities to dissolve poison and to extend the life of the bearer past his normal life expectancy." Harry didn't think either of those uses would appeal directly to Voldemort, either. He would have to research this Gramarye Crystal in more detail. Hermione was more than likely to have some inspired opinions on the matter.

"Right," Harry said distractedly. He was vaguely aware that Scrimgeour was standing, and seemed to be waiting for Harry to do the same. Harry stood and extended his hand to the Minister. "I'd better be off then, I'm sure you'll have a lot to do," Harry said. The first thought that came to his mind was that the other Secret Keepers and their families needed protecting. Harry was glad he didn't have to arrange anything like that; arranging Malfoy's protection had been enough hassle. Harry had made it to the door, his fingers on the handle, when he thought he'd perhaps better say something about that. "I forgot to mention," he said, catching Scrimgeour's attention, "that Narcissa Malfoy is dead – a backfired killing curse from Severus Snape. Draco Malfoy is currently under the protection of Remus Lupin, and will probably be applying for permission from the Ministry to take his NEWT examinations shortly."

"Malfoy as in Lucius' son? Lupin as in the werewolf?" Scrimgeour asked, under the impression that he had somehow misunderstood. His reference to Remus had made Harry's blood boil, though, so he responded only with a curt nod and swept from the room. The friendship building would have to be put on hold for a short while.

Harry stepped back out of the fireplace in Grimmauld Place eager to tell Ron and Hermione that they had been right about the Secret Keeper business. He had only taken a couple of steps towards the door when Ron and Hermione hurried in to meet him – it was as if they'd read his mind. "We were right," Harry started, but he stopped again, as at the same time Hermione had said,

"We think we might know where the last Horcrux is."

"Really?" Harry asked in astonishment.

"We were right about what?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

"They were Secret Keepers, there are five others. They're hiding the Gramarye Crystal. We'll research it later. Your turn."

"It was Ron' idea," Hermione said, while Ron silently shone in the background, "and we think it might be at the Riddle House, right under his nose where he can keep an eye on it." Harry found his exhilaration at the possibility of the discovery of the last Horcrux diminish and steal away, like autumn leaves on a breeze.

"I hope it's not there," he said aloud, though secretly he thought that it was highly likely; the location was personally significant to Voldemort and inaccessible to everyone else, just like the others had been. "How would we ever get out alive?"

* * *

Snape knew things were getting dangerous for him. He hadn't succeeded in capturing the Weasley girl, he had come face to face with Potter on three occasions and was yet to lay a spell on him, and he had lost his hold on the Malfoys, getting Narcissa killed in the process, although he still wasn't sure how that had happened. All in all, he was performing as if he hadn't spent his entire adulthood leading his double life as a trained Death Eater and spy. In fact, as much as it pained him to admit it (and it did pain him; severely), Potter seemed to be far more successful in his endeavours, which certainly wasn't good news, either. What a battle this was: a war between an immortality obsessed, power hungry, merciless, relentless salientian shell of a man, and an arrogant, hero-worshipped and witless adolescent. Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. What in the name of Merlin was he doing caught up in this chaos? All in all, Snape found himself inordinately pleased he had killed Dumbledore last summer, otherwise he would have little to recommend himself to either party. His actions, however, still held merit with the Dark Lord, even if his trust was otherwise waning. Snape felt he had no other option but to make himself invaluable to his Master, by completing a deed no one else had yet managed. So far his plans had all been disastrously unsuccessful. He needed a new plan, that's all. 


	22. Chapter 22 Manipulating Malfoy

**Chapter 22 – Manipulating Malfoy**

The following week, after much discussion, argument and bouts of name-calling, Harry and Ron had devised a scheme to retrieve the remaining Horcrux from the Riddle House. Since there was almost certainly a Dark Mark barrier around the complex, they came to the logical conclusion that they needed the help of a Death Eater. Harry, of course, wasn't exactly on good terms with many Death Eaters. In fact, there was only one he knew of that wouldn't kill him on sight – and that was only because they'd confiscated his wand. Ron had been particularly keen on the idea of sending Malfoy into a house of Death Eaters, and had worked with Harry to find out spells that may be suitable for the occasion. Hermione had helped very little, and refused to have her limited assistance acknowledged in any way, since she disagreed with the plan in all principle. She had even been quite rude at times, daring to suggest to Harry that he didn't have the authority to make people do what he wanted them to. Ron had accused her of sticking up for Malfoy, and then they'd had a huge shouting match and given Harry a phenomenal headache. Eventually, though, everything had been resolved. All that was left to do was to explain the plan to Malfoy.

Since Malfoy couldn't be persuaded to leave the cottage in which he had been temporarily imprisoned, for his own safety as much as anyone else's, Harry and Hermione visited him there, despite Hermione's objections to the scheme. They had encouraged Ron to stay within the confines of Grimmauld Place, estimating that brawls would only be more likely with his presence.

Lupin answered the door to Harry and Hermione on a bright but chilly morning. Harry had never before set eyes on Lilac Cottage, which had been left in his possession with Dumbledore's death. He had idly been contemplating perhaps living here once the war was over. It was beautifully secluded, and its location was only known by a small selection of people. Okay, so one of them was Malfoy, but that could always be altered if necessary.

"Good morning Harry, Hermione," Lupin said, standing aside and gesturing for them to come into the hallway. Harry was delighted with what he saw: the walls were bare stone on the inside, decorated by assorted wall hangings, most of which depicted flowers or birds. The floor was similar in that it was solid grey flagstones, hidden on occasion by large, thick rugs in bold colours. Harry peered up the narrow and not-quite-straight hallway to see a couple of steps up to the next section of corridor before it wound around the corner. The cottage was kooky and crooked; Harry loved it. He could imagine his old mentor living here, pottering away and eating bowlfuls of lemon sherbets. He had an odd sort of satisfied smile on his face as he looked over at nothing in particular, and so Hermione elbowed him sharply in the ribs to make him pay attention. Glaring at Hermione, Harry rubbed his sore side and caught the end of what Lupin had been saying, about it being lovely and quiet and there was no hassle and blah blah blah.

"I'm so glad to hear you're doing okay, Professor," Hermione said. Harry snorted.

"He hasn't been our professor for years, Hermione," Harry said, laughing at the expression of disgruntled consternation she was now sporting. "There's no need to be a goody-goody anymore."

"There was never any need anyway," came a drawling voice from the next room.

Lupin frowned. "Do you want any tea?" he asked, ignoring Malfoy.

"No thanks," Harry said, knowing that Lupin would have to make it himself. He didn't want to cause him any trouble. "We'll just have a word with Malfoy, if that's alright."

"Be my guest," Lupin replied. He knocked twice on the already ajar door before pushing it gently open and heading inside the room it concealed. Harry followed, with Hermione close behind. The room had a low-beamed ceiling and a wonderful fireplace set into an alcove. There were several small wooden chairs, each with a round lime green cushion tied in place on the seat. One such chair was occupied by Draco Malfoy, who by all accounts looked more than a little out of place in the comfy lounge. His hair was cut short, and the simple blue robe adorning him was a sharp contrast to the expensive attire he had used to wear. His signature sneer was still in place though.

"Malfoy," Harry nodded politely. Nobody else said anything.

"I'll, well I'll be in the next room if you need me," Lupin said and rapidly left them to it.

Malfoy didn't waste any time with his jeering. "You come to see me then, Potter? Discovered you can't live without me after all?" he said, smirking arrogantly. Harry merely sighed.

"Shall we remind him we've got wands, Hermione, or do you think he'll get there on his own?" Harry said conversationally.

"I think if we give him a moment he might remember that his parents are dead and we could hand him over to either the Death Eaters or the Ministry at any given point, and that he is entirely at our mercy," Hermione replied, only glancing at Malfoy once. Harry thought maybe she was being especially waspish on Ron's behalf, which was nice of her.

"Yeah, I get it," Malfoy said, scowling at them and slumping back into his chair. "So what is my calling for the Potty Parade?"

Harry pulled two chairs to face Malfoy's so they were almost sitting in a circle. Hermione sat on one and Harry took the other. He made sure they were both comfortable before he replied. "We need to get through a Dark Mark barrier," he said. "And we're not especially familiar with anyone who has one of those, except for you." Draco glowered at him.

"Don't give him that filthy look," Hermione said, sounding rather a lot like Mrs Weasley when she was midway through a rant at the twins, "you should have known that thing would get you into trouble."

"Well it wasn't like I had a choice in the matter," Draco muttered half-heartedly.

Harry didn't believe that for a second. He, Harry, didn't have a choice in the matter – that much had been made pretty obvious since he was only a year old. Draco, on the other hand, he had all the choices open to him, and he'd chosen to blindly make all the same mistakes his father had. "Whatever," Harry said, deciding that now wasn't the time to quarrel about who had been dealt the worse hand in life. "All you need to do is go to this house, get inside and cast one little spell. Think you can manage that?"

"Yeah I can manage it," Malfoy said, glaring arrogantly at Harry. "But what makes you think I'm going to do what you say?" Harry sighed. At least he hadn't been foolish enough to expect this would be easy. He was just thinking of a suitable retort when Hermione beat him to it.

"Whatever makes you think you have a choice?" she asked him, glaring him down in a way that was eerily reminiscent of their previous potions master. Malfoy didn't reply so Hermione elaborated. "If you agree to do what we say and go in willingly then we'll consider letting you have your wand back," she said, and Harry gaped at her. She shot the glare in his direction then, and Harry had the good sense to close his mouth and keep his opinions to himself, at least for the moment. "Or," Hermione continued, "you could go in under the Imperious and we'll keep your wand a bit longer." Harry couldn't help it – he gawked at Hermione as if she'd just suggested they all go down to the three broomsticks for a friendly pint. Malfoy, on the other hand, appeared utterly unperturbed.

"I can throw off the Imperious, Granger," he scathed, spitting Hermione's name as if it were venom. Harry couldn't remember Malfoy ever successfully overcoming the Imperious Curse, but Hermione didn't seem to care either way.

"Ha!" she replied, her face alight with cheer. "You've never tried resisting one of Harry's curses, have you?" Dumbledore couldn't manage to throw it off so I don't see you making much progress," Hermione gloated.

Harry realised that his jaw had dropped and once again snapped it shut, mentally trying to solve the puzzle that was Hermione's blatant lie. To Harry's incredulity, Malfoy seemed to believe her ridiculous bluff.

"Are you threatening me, Granger?" he asked with more than a hint of menace.

"Not at all," Hermione replied, equally as coolly.

The silence then was absolute and Harry couldn't remember exactly when he had last felt so distinctly uncomfortable. He may as well have not been there, though, as Hermione and Draco were impervious to his presence, in what Harry observed to be a furious silent battle of who could out-glower whom. Eventually Draco sighed and drew back.

"Alright then," he replied in an infuriatingly nonchalant manner. "I'll go. What's this spell you want me to do then?"

Hermione had apparently done her bit and she sat back, looking expectantly at Harry to continue. Clearing his throat, Harry began his previously meditated explanation of what Draco was expected to do, conveniently neglecting to mention anything at all about Horcruxes. "We're looking for something, and we think it's being hidden in this place protected by a Dark Mark barrier," he started, speaking slowly and clearly so he wouldn't have to repeat anything for Malfoy's benefit. "This thing we're looking for, it's a goblet that used to belong to Helga Hufflepuff. We know it has lots of magic powers, and we think it might help us to defeat Voldemort."

"Yeah, okay," Malfoy sniped, obviously a little irritated by Harry's patronising.

"So you go there, and do this spell that will -"

"Go where, Potty?" Malfoy interrupted.

Harry glared. "To the Riddle House in Great Hangleton," Harry said, rather enjoying watching his school nemesis pale even further than Harry would ever have thought possible. "You know where that is?"

"I can't go there!" Draco said, the tiniest hint of panic in his otherwise contemptuous tone confirming that he did know exactly where that was. "They'll kill me!"

"We have stuff to protect you," Harry said airily, waving away the possibility that the only remaining Malfoy might die in a similar fashion to his parents. "So this spell will let you know if the goblet is there," he continued, ignoring the look of deepest loathing Malfoy was sending him, "and if it is, will direct you to it. All you have to do is bring the goblet back to us." This was the only flaw in the plan – considering how well the ring and the locket had been protected, Harry, Ron and Hermione weren't convinced that Draco would be able to remove the Horcrux himself. On the other hand, Ravenclaw's book had been there for the taking, and Voldemort might think that his presence was protection enough. Though eventually Ron and Harry had decided that even if Malfoy couldn't bring the goblet to them he would at least be able to affirm its whereabouts.

"What protection?" Malfoy asked rudely.

Harry sighed. "An insubstantiality potion," he said, grinding his teeth, "and an invisibility cloak." It severely groused Harry to have to lend his father's cloak to a Malfoy, but he didn't think he had very little choice in the matter. Besides, it was ultimately helping to rid the world of Voldemort, so the decision didn't cause him as much grief as it may otherwise have done. "And your wand," Harry added as an afterthought. He was rather more than apprehensive about returning Draco's wand to him, but he certainly wouldn't be able to do the spell without it, so there was little room for argument there.

"Okay, Potty," Malfoy said. "When do I get to stride to my death for your Noble Cause?"

"Tomorrow," Harry said firmly. "Early."

After a quick word with Lupin, Harry and Hermione returned to Grimmauld Place to find Ron waiting anxiously for them. "What is it?" Hermione asked immediately on seeing his ashen face.

"'Nother murder," he said. "Hestia Jones. The Death Eaters just showed up at her house. No warning, just in and out," he said, looking thoroughly repulsed.

Hermione had a hand clamped over her mouth, her eyes large in what Harry guessed was unmitigated horror. For his part, Harry could do little but stand dumbstruck. Hestia Jones had been one of the Order members who had rescued him from Privet Drive; they'd sat with her at every Order meeting. Now she was dead, like so many countless other, with no explanation, no excuse. Harry could feel anger boiling up inside him. He hated Voldemort and everything he stood for. He loathed the Death Eaters, too. He wanted to rid the world of all of them.

* * *

It was either far too early, or far too late, Snape considered. There wasn't a tiny part of him that wasn't tired and aching, though naturally he would never admit this to anyone; he barely admitted it to himself. The sun had not yet risen and Snape had not yet slept, engaged as he had been in menial tasks for his Master. Being a potions expert certainly bred its own trouble, experienced by Snape not only as the curse of eternally greasy hair, but also as being a slave to the whims of those would had power over him. Thankfully Veritaserum was a potion well practised, and so brewing an excessively large vat had only taken several hours, as opposed to the days it may have taken one less experienced. Why the Dark Lord required such great quantities of the concoction when he was such a skilled Legilimens was beyond Snape's comprehension. Then again, the same sentiment could be expressed for many of his Lord's actions.

Finally finished for now, Snape left the chamber which had been assigned to him for use as a laboratory, and prepared to make his way to the house which had been assigned to him for use as a home. He moved as quietly as possible so as not to disturb any of the inhabitants at the old Manor. Though as he stalked stealthily along the dust-coated corridors, he felt a distinct uneasiness. The halls were creaking, more so than was usual. He thought he might also have heard the swish of fabric, which would indicate he was not alone in this part of the house. That in itself was odd, as Snape had never encountered any company there before; the majority of visitors made their way directly from the front door up the stairs to the Dark Lord's chamber, and very few ventured to the end of the corridor where Snape found himself most often. Wary that he was being watched, Snape decided he would detain this unwelcome guest, logically deducting that the Dark Lord would want to be informed of any curious occurrences within his own dwelling. He crept silently down the dark hallway, ears and eyes trained for any sound of movement. After what felt like a long while, but was really only a matter of minutes, Snape heard the sound of rustling material. He turned his attention to the door on his right and in the blink of an eye he slammed the door wide open to reveal a familiar figure lurking against the far wall. He was barely visible in the dim light, though what few dawn rays dared penetrate the dusty panes gleamed on his immaculately kept tresses.

After years of schooling his expression, Snape felt confident that he masked his great surprise rather skilfully. Nevertheless within moments a consortium of cunning plans centred around the whelp had infiltrated his mind and taken root so unreservedly that Snape had far greater difficulty in concealing his glee. "Ah, Mr Malfoy," he leered, with a malicious scowl that coupled with the ecstatic gleam in his eyes made him appear quite manic. "I certainly didn't expect to see you again so soon, least of all here." He stalked forward, as if approaching his prey. To his credit, Draco stood his ground and did not even flinch as Snape reached for his wand; he merely raised his own in response.

"I didn't expect to find myself here, either," Draco drawled, though Snape was sure he could detect a little negativity – fear, perhaps? – in the usually bored voice. "I thought I'd be stuck in that ridiculous hovel forever."

Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously. "It was for your own protection, as you are well aware," he bit out, barely moving his lips from their habitual snarl. "Though obviously I needn't have bothered." Really, if Snape had known at the time that the first thing Draco would do was take a trip to the Dark Lord's hideout then he wouldn't have made such an effort to save the idiot from said Lord in the first place.

"I'm not here by choice," Draco returned, and this time the previously ambiguous negative tone was easily identifiable as resentment.

Severus had to pause and ponder this for a moment. He had sworn on his life to protect Draco, and had done so faithfully right up until the day the boy's mother met her unfortunate end, thus invalidating the oath. Narcissa's death had effectively freed Snape from his nanny duties, and Snape had been incredibly grateful not to have had to remain with his ward when damn Potter and his Order members had arrived. Potter was obviously a great deal more adept both at remaining hidden and locating others' hiding places than Snape had anticipated, or indeed was himself. Snape had been able to deduce that Potter had been the phantom intruder at what had been his safe house, and Draco's presence in the Riddle House against his wishes was presumably the work of Potter, too. "Don't tell me the Wonder Boy forced you here and you were powerless to stop him." Snape arched a sardonic eyebrow.

"That Granger hasn't changed," Draco said, half in bitterness and half in resignation. "She suggested I either came here willingly and I got my wand back, or I came under the imperious curse without it."

Snape grimaced. Why the Great Potter could throw off the Imperious Curse when many Slytherins were utterly unable was one of life's great mysteries. How many other times the Golden Potter had used Unforgivables as threats was yet another, and one in which Snape had far more interest. He had never really understood the logic behind the comparisons so often made between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort, but perhaps there was a little sense in admitting their similarities after all. One ridiculous quandary at a time. "Why are you here, Draco?"

This time there was some obvious discomfort as Draco glanced nervously to the side and his fingers twitched around his still outstretched wand. "I can't tell you," he replied, his tone and expression both blank and impossible to discern.

"Perhaps I can help myself to the information then," Severus suggested.

"It won't work," Malfoy replied. "Nothing will. They've made quite sure of that."

Snape was getting impatient. "Look, Draco, I'm not in the mood for games and I'm not longer in the mood for this conversation. Either tell me why you are here, or where Potter is hiding, or perhaps some other useful scrap of information, or I shall be forced to alert the other Death Eaters to your presence."

"Great, so I can either tell you everything, let you take all the glory and have Potter kill me, or I can keep my mouth shut and have the Dark Lord kill me. Fabulous."

"He may reward you for your information, Draco."

"Yeah, or he might just kill me," Draco mumbled. Then he sighed. "Look, Scarhead and his lapdog just sent me to look for this cup. Don't ask me, I don't know. They gave me this spell – _locus insigne_ – and it didn't work, so it's not here anyway. So now I'm going back to be a good little lad, do what the Ministry's Poster Boy tells me to and not cause any hassle for the werewolf, alright?"

"You're hiding under Lupin's roof?" Snape asked, doing little to hide his amusement. "I'll bet the full moon is unmissable at your place."

"Yeah, a riot," was Malfoy's sarcastic reply. "So now I'll be going," he said, shifting his weight in an obvious imitation of someone eager to leave, "probably to try this spell somewhere else there's hundreds of people out to kill me."

"What did you say that spell was?" Snape asked, stepping back in front of the door to block Draco's exit.

"Oh, I'll show you," Malfoy said. He cleared his throat, raised his wand, and shouted, "_Obliviate_!"

* * *

Harry was nervously sipping weak coffee in an ugly Muggle coffee shop with dusty widows and a crackling radio (It was unfortunately the only suitable rendezvous location open at such an ungodly time in the morning). Of course he didn't look like the Harry Potter anyone would succeed in recognising, but Hermione, in her black-bobbed disguise, was becoming rather accustomed to the blond style Harry liked to sport when they were out in public. They'd left Ron cutting up daisy root into exactly ½ inch pieces while they waited anxiously for Draco to return with news of the Horcrux. Harry had just taken a fresh sip of bad-tasting coffee, which he spat out sharply as a hand landed firmly on his shoulder and a familiar voice whispered, "Constant vigilance."

"Malfoy, stop being a prat," Harry said calmly. A disembodied chuckle hovered past Harry and came to rest in the empty chair at the table.

"Went, saw. No cup thing. Snape said hi. I'm afraid I had to obliviate him. I only hope people don't start to think I'm helping you or anything, Potty. I'm just helping myself. You know that, right?"

"I know," Harry said irritably. "Keep your voice down."

"No goblet?" Hermione repeated. "You're sure?"

"No, I thought I'd amble in there and right back out again without bothering to do the spell," he drawled sarcastically. If he hadn't have been hidden under the invisibility cloak Harry would have seen him rolling his eyes. "So which Hell Hole do I have to visit next, then?"

Harry blinked. Firstly he hadn't been expecting Draco to offer further assistance. Apparently miracles would never cease. Secondly, he simply hadn't a clue where to try next. The damned Horcrux could be in any damned place and he didn't have a damned clue where to go next. He rubbed his temples. "There isn't a next place, yet," he said tiredly.

"Good," Malfoy said, sounding utterly cheerful, which annoyed Harry immensely. "Take me back to the werewolf then and don't bother me again." Harry could tell by the direction of the voice that Malfoy had stood ready to leave.

"Fine," Harry sighed. He got to his feet, too, and Hermione followed. Harry was tired; he was disappointed. Worst of all, however, he felt lost, and he had nobody to turn to for directions. They had all had such high hopes of finding the Horcrux at the Riddle Manor. Harry was out of ideas for where else it could be.


	23. Chapter 23 Hermione Fever

**Chapter 23 – Hermione Fever**

Harry awoke from a disturbed night's sleep with a fairly bemused expression. He had been dreaming about his encounter with Voldemort in the graveyard. That in itself wasn't especially unusual; it was after all a familiar dream, even if Harry hadn't had it for a while now. However, it had ended with Dobby standing in front of Harry as a jet of green light headed towards him. Dobby had swallowed the spell, burst into flames and was reborn again from the ashes. Now awake, Harry shook his head free of the bizarre imagery and, at the prompt of a hearty rumble from his stomach, he headed down for breakfast.

Hermione was already in the kitchen. "Good morning Harry," she greeted him cheerfully. Harry yawned and gave a half-hearted wave in response. "I thought I'd make us a nice, healthy breakfast this morning." Harry grunted his reply and perched on one of the wooden kitchen stools. "Fruit salad and natural yoghurt," Hermione said with an air of accomplishment. Harry blinked at her. "It'll do us the world of good," Hermione said in a slightly more cheerful edition of her habitually bossy tone, and returned to her task of overseeing the food preparation, making sure the knives were cutting the fruit into small enough pieces.

"Fruit?" Harry repeated after a delay; his mind hadn't quite caught up with the rest of him yet. The only time Harry had eaten fruit for breakfast was when his Aunt Petunia had put them all on that disgusting diet to try and get Dudley to lose weight.

"Yes, fruit. It's good for you," Hermione said. She turned back round then to look at Harry. "You look tired. Vitamins are what you need."

Harry grunted again, though this time it was to conceal his bewilderment. What had happened to Hermione? She had never dictated to them their eating habits before. And since when had Harry looked anything but tired? At a loss, Harry shook his head and slid back off the stool. "I'll wait up in the dining room," he said, and headed back to the stairs leading up to the hall. He thought he heard Hermione 'tsk' behind him but chose to ignore it.

As Harry finished his ascent, he joined Ron, already on his way to the dining room. "Hermione said she'd make breakfast," Ron said, shrugging, by way of greeting. Harry thought he looked a bit odd, like he was trying not to smile. Had he missed something? Or was he just imagining it? "You look tired," Ron said then and Harry sighed.

"Yeah, well I don't sleep well," he said tonelessly. Ron sniggered then, and Harry felt even more at sea. "Yeah, anyway," he said, trying desperately to get a grasp on things, "Hermione's making fruit salad or something. What's going on?" he asked. Ron gawped at him, pausing halfway to his seat.

"Fruit salad?" he repeated.

"With yoghurt," Harry confirmed, nodding, and taking the seat opposite. To his consternation, Ron just shrugged and sat down, that funny smile on his face again.

"Maybe she's just in a good mood," he said, grinning. Harry frowned. He was definitely missing something, and he had an unnerving suspicion what that something might be.

Twenty minutes later and Harry knew for certain. He'd had to sit through an agonising meal, which was of little substance and virtually tasteless – what was the point of melon, anyway? – while Hermione and Ron smiled and batted their eyelids at each other in such a revolting fashion that it made Harry truly sick to his stomach. He'd left the room as soon as Hermione would allow (which was after two whole helpings of the crunchy and sloppy combination) and hurried back upstairs, getting as far away from the couple as he could.

Harry headed back into his bedroom and collapsed on the bed. Considering he'd been up less than an hour he felt absolutely exhausted. Letting out a sigh, he reached his hand under his pillow and pulled forth the notebook. He flicked it open and saw that a new entry had been added since he'd last checked it the previous morning.

_**Very successful DA**_, it said in Ginny's handwriting.

_**Expelliarmus, Protego, Impedimenta, Silencio, Petrificus Totalus – all years.**_

_**Patronus – years 4 – 7**_

_**Permission pending for resisting Imperius (staff assisted).**_

And that was it. Mostly out of restlessness, Harry wrote a reply:

_**Great work, well done. Keep it up! Nothing new here**_ (that wasn't strictly true, but Harry suspected Ginny didn't want to know about THAT). _**Meeting tonight**._

He resisted the strong urge to add 'I miss you', because he didn't want to endanger Ginny if anyone ever found the notebook. It was true, though – he did miss Ginny. He missed talking to her when Ron and Hermione were, well, being Ron and Hermione. He missed bouncing ideas off her, and having a laugh about Quidditch. There were other things he missed too, of course, but thinking about that made him feel desperate, which was just pathetic.

Harry lay brooding in his room for about half an hour. He eventually got bored of doing nothing and began to look back over the Auror application forms again. He was still unsure how he felt about them. On the one hand, he was in the Ministry's good books, so he could just put his name and be guaranteed a place in the programme. On the other hand, he didn't want to be admitted as Harry-Potter-the-Boy-Who-Lived, he wanted to be considered on his merits the same way anyone else would be. Like Ron, for example, who was standing in the doorway. Harry jumped, dropping the locket he had been fiddling with. It banged back on his chest as Ron sat down on the bed beside him.

"Why do you where that?" Ron asked, grimacing at it.

"To remind me," Harry said, sighing.

Judging by his confused expression Ron didn't really understand what it was Harry was talking about, but he decided not to pursue it. "Erm, I came to see if you were, you know… okay."

"I'm great," Harry said flatly.

"What's that you got there?" Ron said suddenly, distracted by the papers laid out across Harry's lap.

"Auror training application forms," Harry truthfully replied. "Tonks sent them. I was just having a look," he said offhandedly. The way that Ron took up the forms for a closer look made Harry ultimately glad he hadn't started filling them in yet – he thought Ron would consider that base treachery. After all, he too had said he might want to be an Auror.

"You going to apply?" Ron asked, not looking up from the paperwork.

"I dunno," Harry said. "Maybe. Probably. It's just this whole – I feel like… you know?"

Ron looked back up at Harry and grinned. "Yeah, I know," he said. Then he shifted a little. "You reckon we could ask for another set?" Ron asked a little uncertainly. "Then we could submit them together."

Harry felt his face split into a smile. "Yeah," he agreed fervently. "That'd be cool." It would be much better if the Ministry considered his form next to Ron's – both from Ron's perspective, as he had accomplished almost as much as Harry had himself, and for Harry's sake, too, so they might see him as more than his name.

"Wicked," Ron said, passing the papers back to Harry. "I really want to be an Auror," he enthused, "if only to see the look on Fred and George's faces when I show up and pretend to arrest them." Ron's eyes were gleaming with the vision, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle.

"Turning them into toads not enough for you?" he asked, laughing.

"Harry," Ron said almost seriously, "I've got seventeen years of pranks to get them back for. I'm out for revenge."

Later that evening, about an hour before the members of the Order of the Phoenix were due to arrive, Hermione dragged Ron and Harry into the library for a recap session. "I just want to run over again what we already know," she said, rolling out a length of parchment before her. "Just in case we're missing something."

"Hermione, we know we're missing something," Harry teased.

"Yeah, we just don't know what it is!" Ron added.

A glare from Hermione, however, subdued them into silence. "Right then," she said, her bossy side taking over. "We still need to find the last Horcrux," she said, writing this down as a bullet point. Harry was about to point out that she shouldn't write things like that down where anyone could read them, but he bit his tongue as he realised that this was Hermione, and she would already have thought of that. "There's no point in going after Voldemort until we've got that." Harry didn't need reminding. "Then there's that flying Inferi army that Flitwick told us about," she said, writing that down, too. "Though we've not heard anything much about that, have we?"

"It could happen any day now," Ron said.

"Always look on the bright side," Harry reminded him.

"I got the impression that Flitwick's been working on something to try and stop them, since they've been charmed to be resistant to fire," Hermione told them, "but that doesn't mean that they still won't cause a problem. Then there are the Dementors." (She wrote that down, too). "Now, I have a theory on this."

"Go on," Harry encouraged.

"I think that they left the control of the Ministry to join Voldemort, but then changed their minds and now just work for themselves."

Ron and Harry gawked at her. "Changed their minds?" Ron repeated, his tone dubious.

"Well think about it," Hermione said calmly. "The Ministry obviously don't have control, otherwise they'd be guarding Azkaban and not breeding all over the place. But I don't think Voldemort has control either. They've been so indiscriminate in their attacks," she said, shuddering at the thought, "Muggles and wizards alike, and I can't find any pattern. Like you said Ron, they've just been going to places where there are lots of cheerful souls to feed on."

Ron looked surprised but vaguely proud that he had been right about something. Harry was still having trouble processing this, though. "You mean they're just going about wherever they fancy? Not taking orders from anyone?" he asked.

"That's what I think," Hermione said, and Harry acknowledged that Hermione was usually right. "I'm going to tell the Order tonight, but they may have come to the same conclusion anyway. So," she continued briskly on, "the other worry is the Gramarye Crystal. Erm, does anyone know what it does?" she asked. Harry almost choked – was Hermione not in the know for once? "It's not mentioned in any of the books here, and I can't just pop into Flourish and Blotts or the Hogwarts library," she said, obviously frustrated by this fact.

"It's mentioned in that book you gave me," Harry said, "_The Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood_. It doesn't say much though, only that dragon's blood is used to activate the crystal so it can be used to rid a witch or wizard of their magical abilities."

"Like make them a Muggle?" Ron asked, horrified at the notion.

"More like a Squib, but yeah, basically," Harry said, nodding. "Scrimgeour said it dissolves poison and gives you long life, too, but I didn't think that Voldemort would be interested in using it for either of those purposes.

"But where does the magic go?" Hermione queried. Ron and Harry looked at her in a way that was by now very familiar – it meant they had no idea what she was talking about. Hermione sighed. "You can't just destroy magic," she said, as if explaining subtraction to a four-year-old. "The only way that magic can leave a person is when they die, and their magic dies with them," she said, glancing warily at Harry as if the subject of death might upset him. Harry just raised an eyebrow at her – he was getting uncomfortably accustomed to death. "What I'm asking is if the Gramarye Crystal takes someone's magic, where does it go?"

"Maybe into the Crystal?" Harry suggested after a short pause for thought. "Maybe the Crystal can turn Muggles into wizards, too?" he pondered.

"Yeah, that would explain why Voldemort would want it," Ron said excitedly. "He can take the magic from people he doesn't like… like us," he grinned, "and pass it on to a bunch of Muggles and make them work for him!"

Hermione frowned. "I suppose it might be possible," she conceded, "but it's still just speculation. Whatever it does, I'm sure him wanting it can't be a good thing," she surmised, "so we just need to make sure he doesn't get it."

"Yeah, okay," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

Ignoring him, Hermione ploughed on, oblivious to the exaggerated yawns Harry and Ron were now suffering. "Skipping ahead a bit, when we've found and destroyed the last two Horcruxes, we need to work out how to get to Voldemort and get rid of him and the Death Eaters."

"You make it all sound so easy," Ron observed.

"We'll have the Order," Harry said, "and Hogwarts, probably most of the Ministry, too. With the two potions – my insubstantiality one and the Felix we're brewing – we should be okay," he said, though he didn't sound very sure.

"We'll be fine," Ron said, picking up on Harry's uncertainty and waving it off. "By the time we're ready, those losers won't stand a chance." Harry hoped he was right.

The Order meeting that evening was as dull and uninspiring as usual. Harry wasn't sure what it was that had made him so excited about the prospect of joining the Order in the first place, but he had been severely disappointed. The only parts he really paid attention to were when the Order agreed with Hermione's theory about the Dementors, and the discussion about the Gramarye Crystal. Apparently not many of those gathered knew much about it, either.

"It's like the Philosopher's Stone and the Midas' Touch," Bill Weasley said knowledgably. "Nobody really knows what they do until someone tries to use them for less than honourable purposes." Harry didn't know what the Midas' Touch was, but he nodded in agreement with Bill just the same. The long and short of it was that they reached the same conclusion as Hermione had – nobody really knew anything about it, but if Voldemort wanted it, that wasn't a good thing. All in all, Harry was pleased when the meeting was over. He jumped from his seat about to make his way over to Tonks to ask about getting another Auror application, when he was intercepted by the Headmistress of Hogwarts.

"Good evening, Professor," Harry smiled at McGonagall.

"Good evening, Mr Potter," she replied. "Before I depart I need to know whether you three," here she indicated Ron and Hermione, who had joined them, "wish to be submitted for you NEWTs next month."

Harry felt his jaw drop. Next month? Where had all that time gone? That was impossible! No way were they going to be able to track down the Horcruxes and Voldemort in month. It was ludicrous, it was –

"Yes, Professor," Hermione said. "We'll be taking our exams with the rest of our classmates."

If there was a time when Harry had been more astonished with Hermione, he couldn't remember it. However, he didn't realise exactly what had happened until after the meeting was over, and he had retired to the library in another effort to discover more about the Gramarye Crystal. He'd not been there longer than ten minutes when Hermione bustled in, hauling a disgruntled-looking Weasley behind her.

"Harry, I want to talk to the both of you about the exams," she told him. Harry paused to look at his page number before closing the book and giving his full attention to Hermione – he knew resistance was futile. "They begin in five weeks time, which should be ample opportunity to knuckle down to study and get good grades."

Harry really had to restrain himself from laughing. She was obviously mental. "Er, Hermione, you do remember that we've got another little task to do?" Harry looked to Ron to share one of their exasperated looks, but his friend was glaring furiously in the other direction. Harry suspected he and Hermione had had a small disagreement regarding the NEWTs, which Hermione should have expected, really. It was okay for her, being able to just absorb information, but for Ron the prospect of trying to pass exams in a few weeks time on top of the already mounting workload they'd assigned themselves was almost certainly too much.

"I really think we can do it," Hermione said adamantly. "With all the work we've been doing anyway, I don't see why we can't just have a look over the topics we haven't covered." There was an awkward silence when Hermione paused, so she decided to continue. "I've asked Professor McGonagall to send us the syllabus to make sure we've done it all. She said she's sent one for Malfoy too, and –"

"MALFOY?" Ron suddenly burst out. "What's he taking exams for?"

"Same reason as the rest of us, I expect," Hermione said pointedly. "Plus he's not really doing anything, is he? I won't be surprised if he gets good grades, with Lupin tutoring him." Ron had turned rather an ugly shade of red.

"Come on, mate," Harry said trying to pacify the short-tempered redhead. "Like Hermione said, we've already done the stuff, we did most of it in our first year! It'll be better than having to wait 'til next year and take them with your sister, won't it?"

Ron sighed grumpily but Harry could tell he had eased up a bit. Hermione had apparently noticed too, as she happily started chattering away again as if there'd been no interruption. "Anyway, tomorrow I think we should give this Horcrux problem thorough consideration. Harry, maybe you could ask Lupin to borrow Dumbledore's pensieve? I know we can get this," she said, sounding more determined than ever. "We've just got to."

Ron took this opportunity to lean towards Harry and whisper, "Someone save us - she's got Hermione Fever again."

* * *


	24. Chapter 24 Charming News

**Chapter 24 – Charming News**

True to form, Hermione had roused Harry and Ron bright and early so they could further discuss their plans. Ron was only mildly grumpy for having been woken, and Harry was actually in a rather positive mood; sunlight was streaming through the windows. This had never happened the whole time Harry had ever been within the dingy confines of Grimmauld Place, and had seemed even less likely since the Dementors had free reign. However, the rooms themselves seemed more cheerful as Harry passed them by, and upon entering the first floor drawing room to meet with Ron and Hermione, his first words to them were, "It's sunny."

"Yes it is," Hermione replied, far from scathingly – she looked rather pleased with the weather, too. Then Harry spied the _Daily_ _Prophet_ open in front of her, and he wondered whether -

"The Ministry have finally given permission for the Dementors to be destroyed," she said, answering Harry's unformed, let alone unvoiced, question. "A new sector has been created solely for the location and eradication of Dementors." For someone who was generally so opposed to violence of any kind, Hermione was oddly cheered by this news.

"No more dull weather, fewer attacks," Ron supplied, starting to grin. "Not bad news, is it?"

"Certainly not," Harry agreed, taking up a seat beside Hermione. "Any other good news?"

"Not really," Hermione said, folding the paper away. "Unless you have any more ideas about the last Horcrux?"

Harry sighed. "No," he said, resignedly. "I'm almost a hundred per cent sure it's that Hufflepuff goblet, the one Riddle stole when he was working at Borgin and Burke's, but I have no clue at all where he could have hidden it."

"Well it's not at the orphanage, since that's been torn down," Hermione said, as if striking items from a list. "It's not in any Muggle museum or gallery, it's not in the cave, because that's where the locket was…"

"It's not at Hogwarts," Harry supplied, "because he wouldn't have kept them in the same place." Of that much he was sure.

"It's not at the Riddle House," Ron supplied, "or Malfoy would have found it. And it's not at that Gaunt place either," he added, remembering all that Harry had told him about the pensieve, "because he had the ring there, didn't he?"

"But where else is there?"

"I don't know," Harry sighed, bored to distraction of going round in these same circles.

"Maybe we could look in the pensieve again?" Hermione suggested.

"No!" Harry said, louder than he meant to. "Sorry, but I know it all. Dumbledore said that a lot of it was guesswork – the only places he knew for sure were the ones we've just gone over." Harry distractedly ran a hand through his already untidy hair, dishevelling it further.

"What about Borgin and Burke's?" Ron said.

"What about it?" Harry asked.

"Well we haven't checked there," he said, as if stating the obvious.

"No," Hermione said, "but we've been in the shop before, haven't we? There was nothing like this goblet there."

"Well it wouldn't be out for sale, would it?" Ron said pointedly. "He could have hidden it somewhere."

Harry looked up. "He might…" After all, Borgin and Burke's was full of Dark objects and artefacts. It was probably the place Riddle had felt most at home since Hogwarts, and it was the objects themselves that had no doubt attracted him there in the first place.

"It could be worth a check, I suppose," Hermione said, looking to Harry as if seeking his confirmation.

Harry's mind, however, was on the last time they had passed by the shop in Knockturn Alley, when he had seen Snape. Harry was still mildly disappointed in himself for having come across Snape twice since Dumbledore's demise, and hadn't implemented any form of revenge. In fact, on that first occasion, Harry had turned his head, merely glimpsed his ex-Professor and Disapparated immediately. He almost had walked right by, though – he'd only turned his head on instinct, because he'd had a feeling…

"That's it!" Harry suddenly said loudly, so excited he'd actually stood right up, sending his chair toppling loudly to the floor behind him. Fawkes, who'd been resting on his favourite perch in the corner of the room, let out of low cry at the disturbance. Harry was too animated to pay any attention. "It must be in Borgin and Burke's," he said. "I had this prickly, shivery feeling, like I did in the cave with Dumbledore. Yes, it's there, I'm sure it is. Ron you're a genius!" Harry exclaimed, grinning at his friend, whose ears had turned a bit pink.

"Harry, calm down," Hermione admonished, though she was laughing. Starting to laugh himself, Harry picked his chair back up from the floor and re-seated himself. "We need a plan. If we can get this Horcrux, we're nearly there!"

"Let's go at night," Ron suggested. "There'll be hardly anyone around in Knockturn Alley after dark."

"Are you suggesting we just break in?" Harry asked incredulously, but with a hint of mischief.

"Yeah," Ron said, grinning. "Like with Honeydukes. But maybe more carefully, 'cause there might be ugly intruder charms and stuff. I wouldn't fancy getting caught by a Dark curse, and I'd bet there'd be one."

"We could Floo in," Hermione suggested. "It'd be more direct, and less dangerous."

"Be a bit obvious though, wouldn't it?" Ron said. "I mean if anyone is about, the bright green flames might be a bit of a giveaway. We could go under the cloak and in the front door - no-one would know."

"I don't think it'll be necessary," Hermione argued. "As you said, it'll probably be deserted if we go at night. Anyway, Harry's cloak won't cover us all anymore. We'll be better off just wearing our travelling cloaks and keeping our heads down."

"Yeah, that's not too unusual for folks in Knockturn," Harry said, remembering his previous unpleasant experiences of the street notorious for Dark magic; Hagrid had also said it was the sort of place where it was normal for people to keep their faces hidden.

"Okay then, we just go down and break in. If Death Eaters are there we curse them, if the Ministry is there then Harry can just show his face and they'll back off," Ron said, grinning. "Are we going tonight then?"

Harry and Hermione both nodded in agreement, giddy with anticipation. They were on the search again. The sun was shining, and everything felt almost right again.

"That's settled then," Hermione said, satisfied at last. "Now let's do some charms revision, shall we?"

Harry and Ron groaned simultaneously, but neither disagreed; nothing could dishearten them today.

* * *

There was a great deal of commotion in the Great Hall that morning at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as students and staff alike discovered the news concerning the Dementors. There was not a single person who was disappointed by it, not even those who, like Hermione, were against unfair treatment of non-human magical creatures. The misery and hopelessness that had already been caused by the Dementors was enough to unite all wizardkind in their hatred of them. Some of the Gryffindors were cheering; Madam Pince had burst into tears. The general feeling of relief was heightened by the fact that the ceiling showed some blue sky peeking through the clouds, a phenomenon which had not occurred ever before for the few first years sitting below it. Almost every student in the school was discussing the Ministry ruling, desperately clinging to the only positive information that had been reported for several months.

"Good news at last," Neville said smiling, as he reached for a second helping of bacon.

"Yeah," Dean Thomas agreed, his eyes still scanning the paper, reading the Dementor article over for the third time. "Why didn't they do it earlier, though?"

"Mass murder of a magical species," Ginny said, from her seat opposite. "It's against wizarding law to kill any magical creature really, but to wipe them out entirely, like we're planning to do with the Dementors, is just morally wrong. Though nobody seems to be objecting," she added, nodding over her shoulder to the student population, who hadn't been so united in their happiness since end of year exams had been cancelled in Ginny's first year. Ginny couldn't help but wonder how the news had affected others across the country, though her mind focused on three familiar faces more than the countless unknown and unfamiliar. "I wonder if Harry knows," she said quietly to Dean and Neville. The boys knew that Harry was on a mission from Dumbledore; indeed, most people were of that opinion ever since the _Prophet_ had published his absence from Hogwarts in what was supposed to be his final year. However, Ginny hadn't told a soul that she was communicating with Harry, for her own safety as much as his.

"I wonder what he's doing?" Dean said for the hundredth time, glancing towards Ginny as if she would just tell him if he asked enough times.

"I don't know so don't ask me," she told him, also for the hundredth time. To avoid the inevitable further discussion about her brother and friends that would ensue, Ginny turned her head to study the staff table. Hagrid's seat was empty; Ginny suspected he was with Grawp, as was normal these days. Professors Slughorn and Sprout were talking together, with the Prophet spread out before them. Professor McGonagall's chair, on the other hand, was empty. As it had been with Dumbledore last year, the Head's seat was empty almost as often as it was occupied. Ginny had learned that Dumbledore had left the school for missions related to Voldemort's defeat, but somehow she couldn't imagine McGonagall doing the same. There had been rumours that she was meeting frequently with the Minister, but there had also been whisperings that she was taking time off for her health. Ginny knew that McGonagall was old, but somehow she'd always been around: infallible, ever present. Ginny just couldn't imagine that the Headmistress would retain her position at Hogwarts if she weren't fully capable of defending her students. Moving along the table, Ginny's eyes came to rest on Professor Obeah – he was the most popular Defence against the Dark Arts professor the current Hogwarts students had ever known (although the seventh years heavily defended Professor Lupin, too). Ginny was almost sorry, because it was a well-known fact that no professor in that position ever lasted longer than a year. Obeah had told his students that he would only be teaching for a year, anyway, and that he'd only agreed to the post because no other volunteer could be found. However, Ginny couldn't help but worry that something unfortunate would happen to him, as it had done for so many of his predecessors. Catching her eye, Professor Obeah smiled at Ginny, accompanied by a friendly nod of his head. Ginny smiled back before turning once again to rejoin the boys' conversation.

"Got his reasons, I suppose," Dean was saying.

"Reasons?" Ginny asked, in an attempt to catch up.

"You-Know-Who," Dean said. "For killing people. I mean, he's been offing Purebloods, hasn't he? I thought he was the type to go for the Muggleborns, like me, you know? There must be a reason he's killing off his Pureblood mates, I guess." He stabbed his sausage as if had done him a pesonal injury.

"I suppose so," Ginny agreed. She knew the Order had a better idea of what was going on, but, as usual, she wasn't allowed to know anything. It was so unfair – last year Dumbledore had told Harry everything, and then he'd told Ron and Hermione, but nobody thought that she, Ginny, ought to know anything at all. She had been with them at the Ministry, and escaped the Death Eaters with the rest of them. She'd fought off the group of Voldemort's followers who had come into the castle last year, side-by-side with McGonagall and some of the Order. She'd been co-running the DA for almost a year now, and still nobody thought she should be given any details, or be allowed to help. Never before had Ginny so much loathed being the youngest in a large family.

"So what's happening in DA tonight?" Dean asked, bringing Ginny back to the present.

"Poisonous and dangerous plants," Ginny promptly replied. "Neville's running it – Herbology's his thing." She smiled. Neville had been maintaining his strong leadership role in the club, despite revising for his NEWTs, which would begin in just a few short weeks. He was easily the top of his class in both Herbology and Defence, though, and he said he wasn't worried about his other classes, either.

"I'm just going to run over how some plants can be used for defensive purposes," Neville said vaguely, "and how to take care of yourself if you're on the receiving end of an attack from, say, the Venomous Tentacular, or something. There are loads of fungi that have powerful magical properties, too. We might do another session on that next week, depending on how the plants go tonight."

Dead nodded his approval. "Good idea. You can bet You-Know-Who's lot don't know anything about Herbology. It'll be good if we've got weapons they just don't know about," he enthused.

Ginny finished her breakfast in a distracted silence, listening only half-heartedly while Dean and Neville discussed defensive strategies, should the time arise for them to need to fight. A short while later, the three of them headed up to Gryffindor Tower together.

"Filibuster," Ginny said to the portrait, and climbed in through the hole revealed behind the frame. The scarlet and gold commons beyond were deserted, though this wasn't unusual, as the younger years were no doubt on their way to their lessons. Neville and Dean settled down in the comfy chairs in front of the fire, where Ron had always preferred to sit. They each pulled charms books and scribbled notes from their bags, getting ready for a long NEWTs revision session. Ginny, on the other hand, had no outstanding homework, and so headed up to the sixth year girls' dormitory or, as she now liked to call it, 'Ginny's room'. The room was empty, as it had been everyday day since the beginning of the year. At first Ginny had enjoyed having so much space to herself, but it had soon become dull and lonely. These days Ginny didn't go in there more than she could help it. Crossing the room in quick strides, she lay heavily upon her bed, stomach down, and reached a hand under the mattress. She withdrew it with the notebook now clutched in her grasp, and rolled over onto her back to discover whether there were any new entries. She was disappointed, however, to find nothing new written on the pages that forged her only communication with Harry. Sighing, but consoling herself that no news was probably good news, Ginny turned back onto her stomach, picked up a self-inking quill from her bedside table, and wrote a new message.

_Dementors being destroyed (see Prophet). Everyone here delighted._

_McGonagall gone a lot – do you know anything?_

_Doing plants in DA tonight._

_Defence Professor still alive & well._

_Any news?_

Ginny lowered the quill. She'd debated whether or not to write the Headmistress's name, but decided it was common enough knowledge that said Professor was frequently absent from mealtime that it wouldn't hurt. She also wished she could say more – the notebook was helpful, no doubt, but since it could be viewed by whoever stumbled across it, she still had to conceal to whom she was writing. It wouldn't be any good for her to write 'I miss you, Harry,' because that would put them both in danger. Sighing again, Ginny closed the notebook and re-hid it back under her mattress. She lay restless a short while longer, worrying about Harry, Ron and Hermione, until she couldn't stand it any more. Frustrated by her helplessness, she got back up and headed back down the staircase to help the boys revise instead – anything to take her mind off Voldemort.

* * *

"What's the incantation required to produce water?"

"Aguamenti," replied a bored voice.

"Correct. Can you demonstrate it for me?"

"I could, but you'd have to give me a wand, first," came the sultry reply.

"Ah yes, of course." Lupin retrieved his own wand from his pocket and offered it over to his solitary student. Malfoy blinked up at him with steely eyes.

"This is ridiculous," he said. "Why can't I just have my own wand back?"

Lupin fixed him with a steady gaze. "You tell me," he said quietly.

"In case you hadn't noticed," Draco replied rudely, "I'm not going to try and escape. I've got the Death Eaters after me, probably the Ministry too. Here I've got food, I'm hidden; I'm safe. I'm not going to give that up, am I?"

Lupin smiled – he couldn't help it. It was a relief to know that Draco understood his position. He had been similarly bemused only days ago when young Mr Malfoy had actually expressed gratitude at being tutored for his NEWTs.

"Look," Malfoy started again, in a less aggressive but equally assertive tone. "I'm going to be a good boy, alright? Just give me my damn wand back."

He gripped the edge of the comfortable blue armchair in which he was seated, staring at the fireplace as he awaited a response. Remus considered him for a short while longer. He believed him – he didn't think that Draco would be foolish enough to jeopardise the comfortable situation in which he now found himself. "It's in the middle drawer of the kitchen dresser," he eventually replied.

Not quite believing his luck, Draco stood slowly and made his way through the narrow stone hallway to the kitchen. He returned moments later with his wand held in his hand and an odd expression on his face. It might have been pride.

"Shall we continue?" Lupin suggested as his student resumed his position.

"Aguamenti," Malfoy cast the spell, producing a steady stream of crystal clear water that flowed from the tip of his wand.

"Nicely done," Lupin praised, removing the effects of the spell with a swish of his own wand. "What is the incantation for the Cheering charm?"

And so they continued as if there had never been an interruption.

* * *

**AN: Hullo there. In case any of you were wondering, this story was written before Deathly Hallows was published. It just took me longer than expected to go through correcting grammar and spelling, etc. I hope you'll forgive me for not getting it finished and posted before DH, but it should all be up within the next few weeks. Thanks for reading!**

xx wingedthing xx


	25. Chapter 25 The Fifth Horcrux

**Chapter 25 – The Fifth Horcrux**

Harry felt a little uneasy being in Knockturn Alley at night. It wasn't deserted as Hermione and Ron had said it would be; there were cloaked figures lurking ominously in the shadows. Signposts creaked above long-deserted buildings, and the air smelled oddly stale. The street was nothing at all like the well populated vicinity it had been on their last trip to the same location just before Christmas. The unwelcoming surroundings and the unshakable feeling that they were being watched from the shadows rendered both Ron and Hermione noticeably uncomfortable, but Harry, not feeling any abnormal activity around his scar, was not so visibly concerned. He led the way to Borgin and Burke's, his footsteps echoing loudly, intrusively, across the cobbled street. Upon reaching his destination he stopped and turned to face Ron and Hermione.

"Okay," he said. "Get us in." He made way for Hermione to approach the door. Whilst she performed the necessary silencing and secrecy charms, Ron stood back a little, checking for any alarms or intruder curses of the type he had been expecting. Meanwhile, Harry peered up and down the dark, dank alley. A part of him knew that some of the cloaked figures may be watching as three teenagers broke into a dark artefacts store at night, but the greater part of him was not at all disquieted by this – he was sure that he and his friends could take on any witch or wizard foolish enough to try and stop them.

"Come on, then," Ron hissed. Harry turned to see both of them waiting for him.

Hurrying forward, Harry slipped the knife that Lupin had given him for Christmas out of his pocket, and ran it smartly all the way down the small gap between the door and its frame. There was a soft click, and the faded wooden door swung slowly an inch or two inwards. "After you," Harry said. Reluctantly, Ron pushed the door fully open and silently crept into the deserted building, Hermione following close behind. With a last look over his shoulder, Harry entered the shop and cast _colloportus_, locking the door after him.

The air inside the shop was cool and clammy. Harry lowered his hood and cast his eyes around the shelves – it seemed as though Borgin and Burke's had been out of business for quite some time, judging by the empty displays and coating of dust thick on the cabinets.

"What now?" Hermione whispered.

"Find the Horcrux," Harry said simply.

Oblivious to the bewildered glances his friends exchanged, Harry set off walking slowly around the small room. He didn't know precisely what he was looking for, but was hoping he would just be able to tell, the same way he had been able to locate the shack where Malfoy had been hiding, the same way Dumbledore had been able to tell how to get into Riddle's cave. Hermione and Ron watched Harry silently as he made his way slowly around the shopfront. Finding nothing, Harry pushed open the door leading to the stockroom, which creaked loudly on its hinges, emitting a low screech that did nothing to ease the mounting tension. Harry walked twice around this smaller and completely empty room while Ron and Hermione watched silently from the doorway.

"It's here," Harry said suddenly, startling the others. "I can't see anything, though." Hermione joined Harry in gazing at an apparently solid stone wall, empty and unadorned with the exception of one or two spider webs, part broken and long since unoccupied. Ron stood on Harry's other side.

"Lumos," Ron muttered. Their eyes had grown so used to the darkness that the soft light issuing from Ron's wand dazzled them. He cast the light over the wall, ceiling and floorboards, revealing nothing but bare and grimy surfaces. Hermione drew her wand and aimed it at the wall.

"Revelio!" she cast. Nothing happened. In the ensuing silence, Harry could tell from Hermione's wand movements that she was non-verbally casting every spell she could think of that might help. After a couple of minutes she growled in frustration. "Nothing works!" she declared, tucking her wand away in defeat and scowling at the wall as though it had caused her personal injury by refusing to reveal the Horcrux. It occurred to Harry at this point that at least his friends were beginning to believe him without questioning his theories, which, as with Dumbledore's famed theories, did usually happen to be right. It was certainly a warming thought, and somehow strangely empowering, too.

At that moment, a sudden burst of inspiration hit Harry. He concentrated hard on the wall and hissed, "_Open_" in parseltongue. This was Lord Voldemort's puzzle, after all, and this shared ability of theirs had assisted Harry in thwarting Riddle on one occasion before. To his sheer delight, the stones trembled, and then several vanished altogether, leaving in their stead a stone archway, not unlike the entrance into Diagon Alley. Harry smiled grimly as he peered down the dark, narrow passage now visible in front of him. He took out his wand and it ignited of its own accord, quite as if it was by now so in tune with its owner that it no longer required instruction. "Come on, then," Harry said. "I've got a feeling this could take a while." He set off down the walkway with his wand before him, although it did little to penetrate to all-encompassing gloom. Hermione lit her wand, too, and headed after Harry, with Ron bringing up the rear.

"I hope there are no spiders in here," Ron said after a while, and Harry felt the corners of his mouth twitch.

"I think spiders are the least of our worries, Ron." Harry replied.

They walked on in silence for several long minutes. The narrow stone passage was sloping very gradually downhill. Harry held his wand out in front of him to illuminate his path, unable to see more than a metre or so in front of him through the inky blackness. Harry lost track of the amount of time that had passed since leaving the stockroom at Borgin and Burke's, but he became aware that his throat was dry from the silence he had maintained. He cleared his throat, startling Hermione.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No," Harry replied. "Do you know how long we've been walking now?"

"About forty minutes, I think," Hermione offered. Harry sighed – he'd known this would be a long journey.

"We must be far underground now," Ron said. No sooner had he finished speaking, Harry suddenly stopped, causing Hermione to walk into him and Ron to walk into her.

"Sorry," Harry apologised to them. "The walls have stopped." The walls either side of him that had been guiding Harry through the passage had indeed stopped, and the meagre glow from their wands wasn't sufficient light to see why. "It must be crossroads or something. Shield your eyes." Harry silently cast _lumos maxima_ to better see what lay ahead. The bright light now illuminated a wide cavern. Harry cautiously stepped forward into the centre of the chamber, his footsteps echoing on the solid stone floor. He raised his wand above his head and observed his surroundings: several stone corridors, each similar to the one he had just left, led out from this central chamber. Another look allowed Harry to notice torches held in brackets on the walls. Harry lit them, and then put out his wand - the cavern wall was now alight with the soft, flickering glow of the torchlight.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed, his voice echoing eerily off the damp walls. "What is this place?" Harry didn't know, but it reminded him of two things: the circular room with lots of doors in the Department of Mysteries, and the many underground tunnels in Gringotts wizarding bank.

"_Uitweg_!" Harry and Ron turned to see Hermione with her wand aimed at the tunnel from the shop, with the word EXIT now gleaming like silver above the stone archway.

"Good thinking," Harry congratulated her.

"Now what?" Ron asked. Harry didn't have an answer: there were seven other passages to choose from, and he didn't know which to take.

"Either of you two have a preference?" Harry asked them. "'Cause I don't have a clue." Ron shrugged and shook his head. Hermione chewed her bottom lip. There was silence for a couple of seconds before Hermione then spoke.

"Then we should follow the breadcrumbs," she said.

"Follow the what?" Ron asked loudly, not having been privy to Muggle fairytales.

"Pick a path and leave ourselves a trail so we can retrace our steps if we come to a dead end," she explained. When Ron nodded his understanding, Hermione swooped her wand in a wide circle; this action had caused the tip of her wand to glow fluorescent yellow. She aimed it at the floor and walked over to join Harry and Ron in the centre of the chamber, leaving a luminous trail on the ground behind her.

"You're a genius," Ron said admiringly, more than usually impressed.

"I know," Hermione replied loftily, although Harry noticed that she couldn't help but glow with pride, all the same.

Harry looked around him, trying to decide which path to follow. He chose the one directly to the right, reasoning that it would be sensible to at least try them in some sort of order. "This way," he said, and the three of them set off along another narrow tunnel; Harry and Ron with their lit wands aloft, and Hermione with hers pointed downwards, leaving a glowing trail behind them.

These tunnels were shorter than the first, and after about only five minutes of walking Harry stopped dead in his tracks. "What is it?" Hermione whispered from behind him.

"Nothing," Harry replied simply. "Just a dead end."

"How can you be sure it's not a trick wall or something?" Ron asked, thinking of all the secret passageways at Hogwarts, not to mention the deceptive wall that had revealed the original tunnel from Borgin and Burke's.

"I can just tell," Harry replied. The shivering sensation down his spine he had come to associate with magic, and the prickling in his scare that occurred whenever a Horcrux was nearby were good enough guides for Harry to know when to stop searching. "Turn around," he told them. "There's nothing here. Let's try another one."

One by one they tried each of the passages, Hermione leaving a trail so they know where they'd been. After five dead ends, two of which had caved in, Ron was becoming a little frustrated. "Are you absolutely positive that there's nothing behind any of those walls?" he asked again.

"Yes," Harry snapped at him, not voicing his own growing concern that he had been mistaken. "I just know that we're …" But what they were, Harry didn't say. He'd trailed off mid-sentence and now stood absolutely still.

"Wha-" Ron began, but Harry raised his hand for silence.

"Can you hear that?" Harry whispered.

Ron and Hermione remained silent, straining to hear any sound other than their own shallow breathing. After a moment or two, Hermione looked sharply up at Harry. "Hissing," she whispered. "Sounds like snakes." Despite the terrified look on Hermione's face, Harry almost smiled. If serpents were all that stood between them and the Horcrux then this was going to be a piece of cake. "Be careful, Harry," Hermione warned, as if reading his mind.

"I will," Harry replied, as he continued down the dark, damp corridor.

It wasn't long before there was an unnatural, ghostly light issuing from the end of the tunnel. Harry slowed his steps, moving more cautiously as the passage widened, finally opening up into a large stone chamber, easily the size of the entire of Harry's aunt and uncle's house. The whole space was alight with an eerie greenish glow, for which the source was not evident, and the sounds of hissing and slithering echoed off the high, rough stone walls. Searching for the source of the noise, Harry took several small steps into the chamber. He soon realized that the light emitted by his wand was not assisting him any, and he looked down to realize it had promptly extinguished itself, again without conscious command.

"What's in there? What can you see?" Ron called from the doorway.

Harry turned his head back to see Ron and Hermione both stood at the end of the tunnel, as if afraid to come any further. "Nothing yet," he told them. A couple more steps revealed something, though: in the very center of the room was an exceptionally deep pit. Harry carefully approached it. Standing about two feet from its crumbling edge, Harry peered into the crevice, and the location of the hundreds of hissing invertebrates was no longer a mystery. It was a good protective strategy, Harry mused. After all, in ordinary circumstances there would be no way he'd be hanging around a snake pit. Yet as it was, Harry was convinced that the Horcrux had to be in there somewhere. It was, in a way, utterly predictable for the Heir of Slytherin to use snakes as protection for his prized possessions. Unfortunately, Lord Voldemort had apparently not reckoned on whoever would come to find this Horcrux being a parselmouth.

"I've found the snakes," Harry called over to Ron and Hermione. "It's safe, come one over." He remained stationary, looking down into the sea of writhing scaly bodies as his friends approached. Hermione shivered involuntarily.

"How revolting," she said.

"They're not revolting," Harry protested, almost fondly. "Just misunderstood."

"Sounds like something Hagrid would say," Ron muttered to Hermione, so that Harry wouldn't hear. He needn't have lowered his voice, though; Harry had crouched down by the edge of the hollow and was speaking rapidly – at least that's what Ron assumed was happening, because he couldn't comprehend the series of hisses and spitting now issuing from his friend's mouth.

"It's sort of impressive, isn't it?" Hermione whispered, watching Harry with a mixture of awe and distaste.

Ron frowned. "Or just creepy," he said, eyeing Harry warily. "Just hope he's getting somewhere."

When Harry returned to his friends, he was grinning. "Sounds easy enough," he told them. "There's a bridge over the snakes, but it's totally invisible. So all you have to do is walk over the bridge and then a platform appears when you get to the middle. I'm assuming that's where the Horcrux is."

"On a platform by a bridge over a pit of snakes?" Ron summarised scathingly. Harry nodded. "Only a Slytherin would think that up." Hermione frowned, but Harry just chuckled in vaguely amused agreement.

"The Heir of Slytherin, no less," he reminded them. "Right, then. I'll go, shall I?" With a wink, Harry went back to the rim, and experimentally tried placing his foot over the edge. For a while he hit nothing but air, until, a short way around the side of the hole, he stepped on what could only be described as solid nothingness. "Found the bridge," Harry said. It felt like stone beneath his feet, and if Harry didn't look down, he could almost convince himself he was walking along a solid pavement, maybe in Diagon Alley, the street now perhaps a mile above them. Hesitant step after hesitant step, Harry progressed his way slowly across the overpass, climbing steadily up towards the dark ceiling of the chamber. On the ground below, Hermione had covered her face in her hands and was watching Harry ascend thin air through the gaps between her fingers. Ron, on the other hand, was watching the pit below Harry, in case something unexpected should happen there.

After several long minutes (although it felt like hours), Harry stood at the top of the bridge, directly over the centre of the abyss, and a good fourteen feet above his friends. "Now what?" he muttered to himself. He felt around him for any evidence of some platform, or any other object for that matter, but none came to him. "_Reveal yourself_," he said in parseltongue – after all, it had worked for every other obstacle so far. Sure enough, not far from where Harry was standing, a shimmering plateau materialised, and on it was the goblet for which Harry, Ron and Hermione had been so fruitlessly searching for several months.

"Harry! It's the cup!" Hermione called up to him.

"I can see that," Harry replied. But it was too easy – all he had to do was reach out and grab it. It just couldn't be that simple. "Accio Horcrux," Harry tried, but nothing happened. He stored his wand safely in his travelling clock pocket, and retrieved instead the pair of shield gloves he'd received from Fred and George for Christmas. Slipping the silk gloves onto his hands, Harry made sure of his footing, and then reached out towards the goblet. The air around it was sort of stiff, and reaching through it felt like pushing two repelling magnets together. Harry guessed that some charm was in place but the gloves had nullified it; he made a mental note to thank the Weasley twins more profusely when he next saw them.

Eventually, Harry's fingers touched the elaborate looped handle of the golden goblet. At that exact moment, several things happened all at once. The glove on Harry's hand burst into flame, and in the same second the invisible bridge beneath him disintegrated; Harry plummeted rapidly towards the snakes below, unable to prevent himself. Hermione screamed, and Harry thought he saw his life flash before him when suddenly he stopped moving, and was hanging upside down in mid air, suspended by his ankle.

"Hermione told you to be careful," Ron scolded, as he moved his wand gently, guiding Harry back to solid ground. "You did get the cup, right?"

"Yeah, I got it," Harry said. He had clenched the relic tightly in his hand, doing his best to ignore the flaming fabric of the shield glove, now burned and melted onto his skin.

Hermione hurried to take the Horcrux from Harry. "Oh Harry, your hand," she exclaimed, noticing his injury even while she placed the Hufflepuff Horcrux carefully and safely within her robes.

"It's okay," Harry lied. Where the silk glove had charred completely, Harry's exposed skin had begun to blister. Even the smallest wriggle of his fingers was excruciating. "Nothing that can't be fixed," he said confidently.

"I'm not sure the gloves were supposed to stand up to You-Know-Who's curses, Harry," Ron said, grinning, as he turned to leave.

"Well they did their job," Harry said, leaving the other glove where it was on his other hand, as the effort required to remove it would be too painful. "Hang on," he said suddenly, and ran back to the snakes. Hermione and Ron exchanged bewildered looks before Harry came sprinting back to them. "Er, I'm going to find them all homes in the countryside when we've killed Riddle," he said, his cheeks colouring quite dramatically. He hurried ahead of the other two, his wand igniting as he stepped back into the tunnel. Hermione smiled, barely stifling a laugh. Ron followed behind them, shaking his head in wonder, and muttering something that sounded oddly similar to 'nutter'.


	26. Chapter 26 Preparing the Plan

**Chapter 26 – Preparing the Plan**

Harry couldn't remember the last time he felt this positive about defeating Voldemort. They had destroyed five out of the six Horcruxes and, assuming Dumbledore was right, they just had one left to go: Nagini. With any luck, Voldemort hadn't even noticed that anything was amiss. He was, however, probably getting a little frustrated with the fact that the rest of the Secret Keepers for the Gramarye Crystal seemed to have disappeared – thanks to the actions of Rufus Scrimgeour. In Harry's opinion, the new Minister was finally starting to use his power and position for some good. He had released the three false arrestees, regained control of Azkaban with wizard guards, authorised the destruction of the Dementors, and was now protecting the remaining Secret Keepers of the Crystal, as well as assigning more Keepers for the Crystal itself. It return, Harry had been seen popping into the Ministry on a couple of occasions, to raise the population morale, or whatever it was he was doing. On top of all that, the Order was working hard, too. They had more members than ever before; most were being trained as Healers and running shelters to replace the services no longer offered by St Mungo's; Bettina Briarthorn had managed to fix Harry's hand with very minimal scarring. Others were trailing known Death Eaters, attempting to prevent them from successfully carrying out the Dark Lord's plans, by schemes such as executing Confundus charms, and driving them as close as possible to strategically stationed Aurors. This tactic had already proved its worth in the arrests of both Montague and Avery. Flitwick had been working hard on charms to overcome the fire resistance of the Inferi he had been forced to create, and Hermione was, dutifully as ever, making Ron and Harry revise hard for their NEWTs.

"Hermione," Ron groaned with his head resting sideways on the table. "I'm tired. I'm bored. I don't care when the best time to harvest a Mimbulus Mimbletonia is!" A quick glare from Hermione and Ron quickly changed tack. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm really pleased that you're teaching us," he said, sitting up straight and momentarily delaying a bossy outburst, "but could we, you know, have a break or something?"

"Alright," Hermione conceded, although Harry could tell she would have been more than content to continue studying for several more hours yet. "How about you and Harry have some more duelling practise? I'll go and check on the Felix – I think it might be ready soon."

Delighted with this answer, Ron perked up again immediately. "C'mon Harry," he said, already out of his seat. "Let's see if I can beat you this time."

Harry grinned in response – he had always been better than Ron at Defence against the Dark Arts, and his advantage had only increased with repeated practise. Having been actively using defensive spells for the past ten months or so, Harry was now more than adequately adept at non-verbal magic, good at predicting the tactics of his partner, and knew a wealth of relatively harmless spells – a suitable counter to the Unforgiveables usually favoured by Death Eaters. Harry preferred to use non-aggressive magic, such as blocks, shields and binding magics, to prevent the opponent from causing harm, rather than attacking in a similar fashion. He also knew that his magic was strong, and even a burning Hex sent with hatred was no match for his _Protego_. The incident with the Malfoys was an indication that Harry's shields could even reflect the killing curse, but that wasn't a theory Harry was especially keen to put to the test, if he could possibly help it.

Hermione was a successful dueller, too, but Harry thought her methods were far too predictable, despite the accuracy of her spells. Ron, on the other hand, was erratic in his casting, therefore very difficult to predict, but his spells was sloppy and unfocussed, making him rather less formidable than he had the potential to become. Harry spent that afternoon trying to coach his friend in channelling his strength more affectively. It wasn't an easy task as Ron didn't respond well to criticism or direction, but nevertheless Harry felt that some progress had been made. Therefore it was with a certain air of satisfaction that the boys headed back downstairs, guided by the smell of hot bread and melting cheese issuing from the kitchen.

"I made us a quick snack before the meeting," Hermione exclaimed, presenting each of them with a plate of cheese on toast. "The potion is very nearly ready now, so I've added the rosewater and it's starting to turn gold," she told them. "I've been over the exam syllabus again, too, and I think we've nearly covered everything. There are a few more bits here and there but it's not looking too bad," she said. Talking about the exams made Harry's food taste like cardboard.

"So the potion's nearly ready?" he repeated, in a feeble attempt to steer the subject back away from exams, as it was starting to make his stomach feel tight. What if he didn't pass any? Would they let him go back to Hogwarts and take them a year later? How would failing his exams affect his Auror applications?

"Yes, it won't be long now," Hermione clarified. "I think we should talk about it tonight, after the meeting, with Moody and Lupin, maybe Tonks and Shaklebolt, too," she said. Harry's stomach clenched further – he wished they were talking about exams again. Anything to stop him thinking about the impending and inevitable final battle with Voldemort. Harry finished his cheese on toast with difficulty, trying desperately but ultimately unsuccessfully to direct his thoughts onto a subject that didn't constrict his throat and turn his intestines to jelly. It wasn't much later that members of the Order of the Phoenix began to arrive.

"Oh not again," Molly Weasley lamented as Mrs Black's screeching started up again.

"I'm so sorry, Molly," Tonks apologised profusely, dragging the troll's leg umbrella stand back into its original position. "Oh hi there," Tonks said with a grin as she noticed Harry, Ron and Hermione apparate onto the doorstep behind her. Hermione stayed to help Tonks with the stand as Ron and Harry hurried forwards to cease the incessant screeching.

Once everyone had gathered in the dining room (which had mysteriously swollen to admit almost all of the two hundred members of the Order), Mad Eye Moody gave a brief general greeting before passing the floor over to Harry, as the two of them had discussed moments earlier.

"Hi," Harry began nervously, not used to speaking in public despite his repeated practise. "Well, this thing me, Ron and Hermione have been doing, it's almost finished. So that means that we're almost ready to take on You-Know-Who." Harry paused as he waited for the sudden eruption of whispers to die down. "We reckon he's probably close to finishing his army, too," Harry said, saying nothing of his visions regarding Voldemort's thoughts and schemes. "So it might be a good idea to attack the Death Eaters on the day that they send the Inferi out, because they won't be expecting anything like that. They'll expect us to be fighting the Inferi," Harry explained, "not fighting the Death Eaters. There's still loads we need to sort out before we can plan any details, so now we need to know where everyone is."

Following Harry's brief speech, those assembled then proceeded to detail how their own contributions could be of use. Bettina Briarthorn was personally monitoring the thirty emergency health shelters she'd set up around the country, one of which was manned by Fred and George, who'd undergone several sessions of basic Healer training with Bettina in preparation. The twins had also furthered their products to include high strength shield capes, and candles that, as with the Hand of Glory that had aided the Death Eaters last year, only give light to the carrier.

Professor Flitwick had developed a series of charms to use on the winged Inferi, and proceeded to arrange tutoring sessions to impart his knowledge on the rest of the Order. Harry knew the Felix Felicis was close to completion, and his own insubstantiality potion had been tested, too. By the end of the meeting, most were feeling fairly positive about the upcoming battle, though it was evident that there was much work still to be done.

As was becoming customary, those Weasleys who had attended the meeting, plus Tonks, Lupin and Mad Eye, opted to stay at Grimmauld Place for a friendly meal. While Mrs Weasley and Fred and George were down in the kitchen preparing the food, Harry sat nervously under the gaze of both of Moody's eyes, while they discussed what steps had to be taken next.

"If we're going to take on Voldemort and his Death Eaters," Lupin said quietly, "we're going to need an army. He'll have one, of that much we can be sure."

"Then we'll form an army," Moody growled, rather louder than Harry considered necessary. "We can leave you in charge of that one, Potter."

"But I don't know how to plan an army!" Harry exclaimed, bewildered.

"You don't have to do it on your own," Tonks said, laughing and ruffling his hair. Harry batted her hand away distractedly.

"I've never done anything like this," Harry argued, not wanting to sound like a coward, but at the same time eager to convince them all that he was a poor choice for co-ordinating something so massive.

"None of us have, Harry," Lupin said, and his calm manner at least helped Harry to settle, even if it was only by a very small degree.

"Who would you have fight for you Harry? Just think about that, and we'll go from there."

"Right," Harry said uncertainly. At least he had somewhere to start now. "First I'd call together all the DA members who'd be in seventh year or above," Harry began. He knew that the younger years had joined for a reason, but Harry didn't want Ginny in the battle. She could help protect Hogwarts if necessary, and if anyone asked for a reason, Harry would tell them it was for Molly Weasley's peace of mind, rather than his own. "And all the Order members except Hogwarts staff; they need to stay there to protect the students."

"And the Aurors?" Tonks offered.

"No," Harry replied, earning him a full round of quizzical glances. "All the Aurors who aren't in the Order need to be on call in case they're needed by the rest of the community."

"And the Healers?" Hermione queried.

Harry thought silently a little before answering. "Those not already accounted for must go to St Mungo's, which will re-open on that day. Voldemort will think we expect a lot of casualties, so he'll get complacent." Harry decided to ignore the debate of whether or not Voldemort would be correct in these morbid assumptions. "Back to the defence then. We can't very well put House Elves at the front if Hermione wants to take SPEW any further."

"Well if you asked the elves first it would be okay," Lupin offered. "Those who seem unsure don't have to take part. It would be a shame to exclude them altogether. Welfare rights aside, House elves are powerful creatures and very resilient. Their success might even throw the SPEW campaign into the public eye."

"Right then, we'll ask the house-elves," Harry said, as Hermione beamed silently across the table at him.

Even after dinner was served and the group gratefully tucked into large plates of shepherd's pie, Harry was still discussing those who might help them out, whilst others offered their own suggestions.

"We've got Grawp," Ron said.

"But he won't be much use if there are loads of giants on the other side," Harry replied glumly. "Hagrid and Madam Maxime would barely count. We'll just have to hope he underplays it."

"We'll need to keep this very quiet, and maybe lull him into a false sense of security," Hermione agreed.

"Might be easier said than done," Moody added, ever the optimist.

"Hermione, get Krum and his lot," Harry said, determined to remain on topic, and ignoring Ron's scowl at the mention of Viktor Krum. "If I remember correctly they were pretty anti-Karkaroff, so they might be against Death Eaters in general. Who knows? We'll ask Fleur to get her lot, too. I wonder if she's in touch with many Veela? And would they be more of a help of a hindrance?"

"What about the Minister?" Fred asked.

"Can we stick him on the front line?" George inquired.

"Scrimgeour said he wants to fight with us. Who am I to deny him the pleasure?" Harry replied. "The centaurs won't, the mermaids can't," Harry continued, now having finished his dinner, counting off the different groups on his fingers. "The acromantulas won't distinguish between friend and foe – they'll just eat everyone. I wonder if Charlie can get us any dragons? Or is that going too far? And I'll ask Bill again about the goblins, and Lupin you can check…"

"I'll try again Harry, but I can't promise anything."

"That's great, thanks. Also, I thought I might get some snakes to join in. What do you think?"

"Snakes?" Hermione and Tonks repeated together.

"Knowing Riddle, he won't be out to fight himself, he'll be tucked away somewhere safe, watching from the sidelines," Harry explained. "So if I could get some snakes to attack the Death Eaters…" he trailed off as the others exchanged looks varying from amusement to concern.

"We'll consider it as an option," Lupin diplomatically supplied.

"Right. We need to get all the Death Eaters in one place," Harry said. "There's no way we can incriminate them otherwise. We need to be able to keep them all together and have the Aurors arrest them."

Hermione nodded, understanding Harry's decision. He wanted this to be done properly, not to be rounding up Death Eaters for the next few years, as had been the case with the last downfall. Last time, several Death Eaters had still managed to remain free, like Lucius Malfoy.

"Then there's the Inferi," Harry said, running a hand through his hair, giving it a rumpled look. "We need people around keeping them at bay, making sure nobody gets hurt."

The plates were cleared away, and Tonks had started to yawn before their discussions began to die down. "We'll meet again soon to continue this," Moody said as he hauled himself to his feet. "Until next time." With a nod of his head, Mad-Eye clumped his way out into the hallway, and Molly followed to lock the door after him. As Tonks rubbed her eyes yet again, Lupin leant across the table to talk quietly to Harry.

"Harry, you are sure about this, aren't you?" Lupin asked. "I know you wouldn't send people to Death Eaters unless you had good reason, but are you absolutely sure this will work?"

"No." Harry replied truthfully, "but Dumbledore said it would. That's got to be good enough, because it's all we've got." Even Lupin couldn't argue with the hopeful sincerity shining in Harry's eyes. Instead he sighed, and joined the others in rising from his seat.

"Oh, Tonks!" Harry called out, suddenly remembering he had wanted to ask her something. "Before you go, could I ask you for another application form?"

"You didn't mess it up did you Harry?" she teased.

"Of course not. Ron wants to apply as well."

Tonks raised an eyebrow and looked over at Ron, whose ears had turned a delicate shade of pink. "I'm sure you'll both be great Aurors," Tonks said, winking and smiling at Harry. "I'll send the forms over in the morning."

"Thanks," Harry replied, grinning as he waved farewell.

Once the Weasleys had departed, too, Harry, Ron and Hermione retired to the more comfortable sitting room on the second storey. Harry's mind was still buzzing from the anticipation of the upcoming war, and how much they still had to prepare in what could be a very short space of time.

"I think you did really well," Hermione said, startling Harry from his reverie. "You had some really good ideas about who should be where. I'm proud of you, Harry."

"Uh, thanks," Harry replied, at a loss. He hadn't been that magnificent; just about everyone else had contributed ideas too. From the crestfallen look on Ron's face, he obviously felt the same way, too. "I couldn't have done it without you two," Harry hastened to add. "Most of my ideas came from discussions we've had already," he said, pointedly looking at Ron to alleviate his friend's dejected state.

"Yeah," Ron said, brightening a little. "We're a good team, aren't we?"

"An excellent team," Harry agreed.

"Yes," Hermione replied, sounding, Harry thought, a little confused by the boys' behaviour. "A team that should get some sleep so we can spend tomorrow revising herbology," she said, and was greeted by simultaneous groans from both boys.

Although Harry obediently headed up to his room, he had no intention of sleeping so soon. His head was reeling with the thoughts from the Order meeting and post-meeting planning, and some parts of his brain were still trying to dredge up memories from his lessons with Professor Sprout, so Hermione wouldn't crucify him in the morning. The fact that they were already planning Voldemort's defeat indicated a real possibility that the three of them would return to Hogwarts in time to take their NEWTs examinations. As he re-read a chapter of a book on magical flora, Harry wondered vaguely whether it was worth delaying Voldemort's demise purely to allow himself more revision time. His thoughts tending thus, it was hardly surprising that when Harry did settle down to sleep, he was haunted by dreams of winged Inferi bursting forth from his examination papers, and the examiner laughing at him while he accidentally transfigured Ron into a toad with red, slit-like eyes.

* * *

**A/N: I am determined to finish this!**


End file.
